


Sketchbook Girl

by TurboNerd



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dancing, Emotional, Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Poetry, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Smut, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:18:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 128,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7621696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurboNerd/pseuds/TurboNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nyla Cousland is a loner and poet who loves to dance, there isn’t a shy bone in her body. Zevran Arainai, painter, tattoo artist, social butterfly and seeming playboy discovers his muse and Nyla’s inspiration unfolds. Together, they find themselves outside of their comfort zones, and find comfort in each other. Sometimes all it takes is a kind word and a wet t-shirt.   </p><p>This is a Modern AU of my OCs from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7017424/chapters/15975211">Cousland is Alive</a>. This is a playful story, written quickly and for fun. I love my modern muffins, I love writing them.</p><p>I have to say, I wouldn't have even bothered writing this thing if it weren't for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamSnark/works">MadamSnark</a>, who has spent hours and hours flailing with me over all aspects of it. This is our brain child, written out by me but impossible without her!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody lose an Anders? I have an Anders on the table here.

It was actually a pretty nice night, despite the chill, the fog, and the existential malaise that loomed over her. Her favorite new words, _existential malaise:_ fancy speak for ‘questioning the meaning of your life.’ It fit, it was clever, and Nyla liked being clever.

A night on the town. Just what she probably needed. Dancing - definitely what she needed. Pick a club at random, french braid her hair, put on something comfortable, a little on the classy side, something tight fitting. Something to feel sexy in, maybe? She settled on her favorite black, low-cut jeans, and a tight, low cut black shirt to match. And of course, comfortable shoes and her favorite black leather jacket.  

 _I do feel sexy, catching a few glances and_ _-_ _whaaat the fuuuck…_

Nyla’s brain did an all-stop as she stared at the face of the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her entire life. Awestruck, she licked her lips, and appreciated the glow of his long yellow hair, and the relaxed way he stood, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a drink. His face was elegantly tattooed, with three dark lines swooping down and across his cheekbone; it was really, _really_ cool. _Those swoopies are so cool. I wonder what he’s drinking? Oh god he’s looking at me, I should… good lord…_

He noticed her noticing him. It was hard not to; she was clearly attracted to him, licking her lips that way. He was enjoying the way she moved, and he felt a little tingle on the back of his neck. He felt like prey and it was thrilling. She didn’t look away though; that was weird. Usually when he meets their gaze, they look away shyly, or get uncomfortable and the contact is broken. This woman was brazenly looking right into his eyes, he was looking back into hers, and they stayed that way for several moments that should have become incredibly uncomfortable. Trying to flash his typical flirty smirk, he fucked it up, and genuinely smiled; that was weird.

_Oh god he smiled-_

_“COLD!”_ Nyla wailed and jumped back, having run into someone holding a drink. “ _JESUS!_ Ohhhh shit I’m sorry!” she shook an ice cube from her shirt.

“No, I’m sorry I wasn’t looking!” A friendly male voice carried, handing her his napkin.

“I’m sorry, let me buy you another.” She dabbed at her chin and neck.  

“How about I buy you a drink instead?”

“No no, this one is on me. Trust me, I was not even-” She looked up and smiled at a face that looked all too familiar. “Hey.” Nyla was shaken, heart sinking hard and fast and suddenly things were no longer okay. In fact, they had rapidly become the worst. “I gotta run.”

Blond hair, honey brown eyes, perfect teeth in a perfect smile, well groomed with a cheery voice and of all goddamn nights to bump into someone that looks exactly like him… _fuck…_ she was just getting her shit together. She was literally just enjoying looking at another man. This wasn’t fair. She stood on the sidewalk and lit a cigarette, considered getting a cab.

“Hey,” the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her entire life greeted her. Having seen her walk out the door with feigned coolness and trembling hands, he was compelled to follow. They were having a moment, and he wasn’t quite done. Her hands were shaking and she puffed desperately on a cigarette. Three drags in a row, without taking a moment for actual air.

“Hey.” She turned toward him. _What the fuck was the hottest man in the universe doing in my space right here, right fucking now? Not fair._ She averted her eyes. If she was going to speak with the gentleman of unobtainable hotness, she wanted it to be fun and easy. “Excuse me, I’m not suitable company.”

“No? Is it because you are upset?” He knows upset. He’s cool with upset.

“Yeah.” She sighed, smoking her cigarette down to the filter and lighting another off of it. “I’m upset.”

“Upset is fine. Upset means you need a friend.”

“This is a such weird conversation to have with a stranger.” She chuckled, meeting his eyes; they were smiling. She could feel tingles in her belly and she was getting straight up… wet. “I like your accent.”

“Zevran.” He held his hand out and she shook it firmly. It was satisfying as fuck to both of them. “I am enjoying you, even as you are upset.”

“Oh my lord. Seriously?” She chuckled nervously. “You’re sweet. I’m Nyla.” She responded with her cigarette hanging loosely between her lips. She let go of his hand, finally. “I just came here to dance and… the drink-spilling man looked like my ex, from the haircut to the smile.” She shook her head and snorted. “Someone I was in love with. And on top of that I started the night stuck in an existential malaise. Yep. I just said all of that. Nice.”

“You did!” Zevran laughed, and it felt profoundly good for someone to make him laugh like that. He enjoyed her bravery, her sharing, and even the nervousness that followed. “That’s very sad. Your upset makes sense to me.”

“God you’re sweet.” She chuckled and shook her head, puffed on her cigarette. He was so intimidatingly hot, and she was trying not to mention it. “I’m going to call a cab now. Go home and lick my wounds. Maybe brood a little. It was nice talking with you, though.”  

“I would like if you stayed,” he asserted before he could think to stop himself. “The dancing gets fun in half an hour. More people. Maybe dancing instead of brooding?” Zevran was sure of only one thing in that moment; he needed to see her dance. She laughed, threw her cigarette on the ground and smirked at him.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of wisdom in that. You going to dance with me?” She smirked at him again and met his eyes. Wow, those were nice eyes. _Don’t look at his lips. FUCK. Don’t lick your lips… FUCK… don’t flirt. Stop flirting, it’s not cool Nyla, quit flirting._ Her inner world was a cacophony of incoherent wailing, and he was just staring back at her with his panty-melting smile. _Oh my god_. “Help me out here, Zevran.” She was beginning to sweat a little.

“I was… enjoying this whole thing.” Zevran chuckled, pointing a finger, gesturing at her with his drink and eyes. Nyla blushed. Damn. Cute. She was too much fun. Too cute. Her energy was too much fun. Her entire face was too pretty. “Maybe I will dance.”

“Oh, _maybe_ Zevran will dance.” She mimicked his accent. Biting her lip and walking backward, she pushed the door open with her shoulders, watching him follow her with a smouldering smirk. He was fun. Too much fun to look at. Too much fun to flirt with. Too sexy. His voice was too sexy. The whole god damn night got too sexy. Her shirt was wet and she didn’t care and she was going to masturbate _furiously_ when she got home. _Dildo arsenal is going to see the light of day for the first time in forever. It needs to happen._

“I’m glad you will dance.” He wanted to see her relax, she’s had a rough night, wet shirt, unhappy reminder of lost love, she needed to move. She needed to shake it out, shake it off, and he needed to watch her do it. He shouted over the music, “The dance floor will pick up soon.”

She responded with a shrug and started to feel awkward, until he turned around and gestured with his head to keep following. Stopping at the bar, he dropped off his empty glass.

“Let me order you a drink?” He looked at her expectantly.

“Oh, I don’t know. Orange juice.” She spoke loudly, and he tilted his head at her. She tilted her head at him. “What?”

“May I order you something sweet? Sour?” He wanted to buy her a _good_ drink. He wanted to help her _relax._ She got closer to him, spoke up for herself and she was kind. It felt fucking amazing to him. The assertive woman gently rested her hand on his arm and she looked directly into his eyes, and smiled.

“I don’t want alcohol. Thank you, Zevran.”

“Thank you.” He nodded graciously, picked up his brandy on ice, handed her an orange juice, and he guided her with a playful gesture to his favorite spot where he can see the dance floor. “This is where I watch people dance.”

“Oh you’re a people watcher!” She sipped her orange juice and leaned on the tall table next to him. Then, she held up a finger. “This… song…” she stripped off her jacket. “Dancing now. Come on!”

“Zevran will watch!” He took her leather jacket and draped it over his arm. That’s when he realized it. _We’re wearing the same fucking jacket._ Staring at her face so hard, he forgot to look at her other parts and, oh hell yes, he was about to watch this woman dance. By herself. On the dance floor. Which did not phase her at all, as she backed away she nodded at him, smiling, and he instantly became aroused.

Nyla stood alone in the center of the floor and swayed dreamily to the beginning of her favorite song. Odd, she would hear it at a club, she thought it obscure. Hell, the band was obscure. This was literally, the best night ever.

Zevran watched her sway, and she looked at him often, smirking, happy and sassy; she enjoyed her swaying. _He_ enjoyed her swaying. _She loves dancing._ He smirked back at her, biting his lip. It was getting awfully hot in this place. With an abrupt tempo change that she met spot on, her arms swung with her hips, and her fun began.

When Nyla really got into it, it was hair raising. Zevran could feel her enjoyment of the song as she expressed it with so much movement, wide open arms, and she was _good_ at it! People were watching her, and Zevran just could not _even,_ as he held her jacket in front of himself to hide and adjust his erection. She was _flirting_ with him with her eyes and smile, for fuck’s sake, and her graceful arm gestures seemed to beckon him. He felt the strongest urge to sketch her. He was going to sketch her. _Beckoning_ him. What a _flirt!_ What a gorgeous fucking _flirt_ with those hips, that _ass!_ Bosom! _So much bosom!_ And now she subtly puckers her lips and smiles. _Zevran does not get shy OR BLUSH!_ Biting his lip, the song slowed.

The calm before the crescendo, he could see her excitement building. Other people had gathered to dance and to watch. Nyla was the lone dancer to start the party and _fuck..._ it was blowing his mind. Zevran shivered at the burst of noise, that high energy, the way her fist raised to the sky with excitement and vigor, and her arms, hips, ridiculously long legs were expressing so much lovely, sexy energy and Zevran was absolutely going to bust his fucking zipper. _Fuuuuck!_   

The song ended far too soon. That was the shortest four minutes and forty-five seconds of his life. He wanted to see her do that again, but she was strolling to him, body warm and lithe, cheeks flushed, smiling. _Fuuuck._

“Should have gotten water.” She panted, grabbing her juice and downing it. “That was my favorite song! Thanks for talking me into staying.”

Zevran cleared his throat and blinked several times to clear away the dream that was her, so he could actually talk to her. This was new. Everything about this was new, and this woman… he could not _even_ with this woman.

“Zevran, you okay?” She started to feel a little awkward with his silence.

“Your favorite song? It’s a good song.” He made words just to try and pull his shit together, and he hoped she would not reach for her jacket anytime soon. “What is the song?”

“Comedown by ohGr.” Her breath was slowing and she was standing tall with her hands on her hips. He needed to sketch this, too. Yes, there were several moments he needed to sketch.

“I enjoyed your dance… Excuse me, Nyla.” He sighed, grateful for the distraction of the phone vibrating in his pocket. “Roommate is here.”

Weirdest shit ever, for this guy to have a gorgeous redhead walk up to him and kiss his cheek. Nyla was confused. He had flirted way too hard with her to be taken; it was weird, and Nyla needed to get far away from it. _Pfft. Roommate._

“Leliana, meet Nyla. Fantastic dancer, her favorite song is Comedown by ohGr and she blasphemes when confounded.” Zevran watched Nyla closely, she was blinking with brow furrowed, and her discomfort was obvious as she took her jacket from his hands.

Leliana, a brilliant woman, could see what was happening as she walked up to them, and thoroughly enjoyed the predator that suddenly looked like prey. She also noticed the discomfort she brought with her.

“Hi, Nyla! I’m just a roommate, we’re not a thing.” Leliana, while sweet and charming, also had a tendency to be a little blunt. “Wait… you work at the diner next to my office! Don’t you?”

“I… yes I… Oh my god he's right… fucking… yes. Leliana, hi. You’ve made things so weird.” Nyla spoke in a desperate attempt to make shit stop being weird. She wasn't even _trying_ to obtain the unobtainable hotness, she knew better.

“Leli does this.” Zevran pulled Leliana close and rested a cheek on the woman’s shoulder. “She is dead to me.”

“Okay, Zev, listen, Anders is here…” Leliana spoke seriously.

“Shit.” he cringed.

“You have to help me.” Leliana pleaded playfully. “He’s already drinking.”

“Fuck.” Zevran chuckled and shook his head. He was busy. _“Why?”_

“Exams, he just really needs this, needs to unwind. Help? You monitor his drinks this time. He’s had three at the house, he gets three more. I’ll make sure he doesn’t go home with one or more people he will regret later.” Her face was scrunched up with pleading, and she was squeezing his hand tightly between hers.

“Of course.” He sighed, glancing at Nyla, who appeared to be infinitely entertained.

“Okay, okay, he’s… I lost him. Okay… Zevran, Nyla, exchange phone numbers immediately.” She grabbed Zevran’s phone, and typed as Nyla shouted her number over the music, because _why the hell not?_ “See? Easy. Okay I need to go find him, it’s only been five minutes and... okay I’m going.”

“There’s a man on a table.” Nyla chuckled and pointed. “Is that yours?”

Zevran sighed. Taking Nyla’s hand in his, he kissed it while meeting her eyes, and then gave her his best sexy smirk. He liked the way she went wide eyed and licked her lips as he backed away from her.

She watched him turn and run, on damage control as he went to help his friend posing playfully on a table; that's when she finally noticed they were wearing the same black leather jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the first conversation saved, look.
> 
>  _Me:_ Fuck. I accidental HC Modern AU Zev and Nyla  
>  _Snark:_ oo tell me. im not normally one for modern au, but i saw zev so lets DO THIS  
>  _Me:_ She would totally meet him in a club. And his face would kill her. and she would fall over something. He's a people watcher. and he knows he's hot.  
>  _Snark::_ the guy casually lounging in a chair, with a drink in his hand, surveying the crowd  
>  _Me:_ FUCK  
>  _Snark::_ FUCK  
>  _Me:_ YOU ARE PICTURING IT  
>  _Snark::_ FUCK


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curiosity builds... These two have _no_ idea what they're in for!

Zevran turned on Nyla’s favorite song and sat down with his sketchbook. His hair was still wet from his shower; Anders had barfed on him in the cab.

It was a good song, now that he could concentrate. Drawing her was a relief. He needed to do _something_ with the shit happening in his head.

The dancing, the smiling, smirking, beckoning, displaying, inviting, artful movement and peaceful, playful expressions. Her outfit was all black. Fuck, they were wearing the same fucking jacket. He wished he could make his drawings move like she did.

The curve of her hip, bosom heaving, exerting, arms hanging loose on relaxed shoulders… clothes would ruin this picture. What does her skin look like? Freckles on her shoulders, and when she bent forward she would have a cute woman belly that hid her navel. Her nipples would be small and pink, and her breasts would be large, round, hang a little, just enough to bounce emphatically when he… _the fuck did I just draw?_ This one was certainly his favorite thus far. He bit his lip and palmed the most annoying boner. _Shhh I am trying to draw._

The sun was coming up and her song played over and over, he drew her until he ran dry of ideas and he needed more. He hadn't been this inspired in _so_ long. Perhaps in seeing her, he would become inspired again.

 

**_***_ **

Showing up early for work, Nyla was nothing if not dutiful. Lunch shift wasn't her favorite, dinner shift was more alive; people everywhere. She was there enough to be noticed, but outside enough to feel free. She loved her job. It was never lonely and always busy.

That Zevran, though. Her night was sexy; she went home and the night stayed sexy. She went to sleep feeling sexy, and she was determined to enjoy the memory of the unobtainable hotness while it lasted. Nyla knew she would forget about him at some point. Go through the motions, be curious, horny, have a few fantasies and get over it.

He’s a man, a fun one who wasn't lacking in depth or beauty, and his number was in her god damn phone. It was tempting, but no, she was simply not going to toy with unobtainable hotness. _He’s probably got women following him around, and his phone probably has four Nylas in it, and who names their fucking kid Nyla? He's probably banging Leliana on the side too._

Fuck that. Nyla and her monogamous heart are _not down._ She was _not_ setting herself up for heartbreak.

 _And what is he doing in my restaurant?_ Without even thinking, her heart leaped, _oh my god... fucking... so hot..._  Her hands raised themselves to fix her hair, hoist her tits more snugly in her bra and her big mouth moved without permission.

“I got this one, Cass.” she kept her voice cool, at least.

“Get him honey.” Cassandra laughed, “He's been watching you for over an hour and guzzling coffee. Stop him before his heart explodes.”

“Oh bullshit.” She bit her lip and figured, if he hadn't said anything why should she? “Well, if he's been helped…”

“I'm going to physically assault you if you do not go over there. Don't want that public tit adjustment to go to waste.”

“Oh my god. It's one thing to publicly adjust one’s bra, Cassandra, calling it out is where the line is crossed.” Nyla stomped away from her, looking back haughtily with a nod. _Challenge accepted, bitch._

Zevran noticed her approaching, and again he felt like prey. Calmly closing his book, he got really angry at his boner.

He always got foggy when he sketched, immersed in his world of transferring life to paper. What the hell was he going to say to her? _Hello I have been drawing you for hours and I… am at your workplace right now soaking you up for inspiration?_ That might work, might be creepy, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel violated. She might not understand that she was… art.

“Hey.” She spoke breathily, trying not to lick her lips, or bite them, she did both. After fucking that up, she tried not to do anything brazenly flirty. “Can I get you anything?” _Voice too sultry too suggestive. Nyla, INHALE before speaking and maybe try a little subtlety. JESUS._

“Nothing appropriate, thank you. I will stick with coffee.” He winked at her and sipped from an almost empty mug. _She started it._

 _Oh my god._ She melted under his smirk, bit her lip, and it was way too hot in there. _Jesus._

“Blasphemes internal tonight, Nyla?” If she was going to stroll up to his table with those curves and that whole face of hers and then _flirt…_ then he was going to have to enjoy watching her melt as he gave it right back. Her cheeks were pink and it was _too fucking cute,_ this woman standing in front of him in that short skirt and tights with long legs to heaven.

“Yes, Zevran. Quite a few of them.” _Why are we not banging?_ She chuckled and stood with her hands on her hips, “You broke me. I'm going back to work.”

“So soon! We were just getting started and Nyla is already worn out,” he purred, and she was biting her lip, standing with sexy posture. Palms on her hips, pelvis tilted forward, one knee bent with one thigh half obscuring the other… She _had_ to be doing it on purpose. She was winning the game if all she had to do was _stand there!_

Nyla found herself rendered speechless, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes raked over her. Clearing her throat, she casually leaned over the table and got a little too close. Cleavage slightly showing beneath a white button up shirt, he flicked his eyes toward her skin for a moment and then back to her eyes, and smirked. She was leaning in to say something, so he leaned forward to hear her.

So beautiful this close, lips thick and pouty, glistening with lipgloss, he wondered what her mouth tasted like and sighed deeply. A wisp of hair that had fallen from her braid rested on her cheek begging to be caressed into place. She even smelled delicious, sweet like floral perfume. Dark eyes blinked slowly, beautiful lips parted and with a breathy tone she spoke to him.

“I’ll be back with more coffee.”

Zevran accidentally smiled, chuckling as she grabbed his coffee cup with a slow wink and turned away from him. Holy fuck he needed to draw her.

Watching her, the most mundane tasks became elegant. She poured his coffee, and was walking back to his table. He loved looking at her shape. _What a nice shape._ She knew she was beautiful; she carried herself that way. Zevran loved a beautiful woman who knows she is beautiful. Beauty should always be celebrated. They have so much in common already.

“Can I get you anything else? Something to eat, perhaps?” She placed his mug on the table gently, standing a little too close. _He's made you insane Nyla. Good lord what-_

“Yes, but what I want is not on the menu.”

Checkmate, the knuckle of her forefinger was between her teeth in playful, excited surprise.

“Oooh you're good!” She spoke with a giggle. “Oh my god. I have things to do. Sweet Jesus.” She turned and walked away, looking back at him with an expression of pure amusement and happiness; her cheeks were still pink, he needed to draw her.

 

*******

Their brief interaction at the restaurant did him well for days, thank god, or he would have had to go back, and then he would have been creepy. Zevran didn’t want to creep her out, he only wanted to be inspired! It had been too long since he had a muse.

Sketchbook nearly filled, his last drawing pencil was down to a nub. He could work with this. After some coffee.

Zevran headed downstairs to the kitchen, flipping through his sketchbook, pleased with his work. His recent favorite, was a recreation of his muse leaning over the table, close to him, a foot of distance kept his lips from hers. She was smirking, bosom hanging, the top two buttons of her shirt undone and giving him a little show of her smooth skin. Her eyes… he had perfected her eyes, and they looked up at him, sultry, smiling, pupils wide, cheeks flush, lower lip gently pressed beneath perfect white teeth, _‘I’ll be back with more coffee’_ is all she said, and his pants began to feel awfully tight.

“Hey Zev. Thanks for babysitting me the other night.” Anders spoke from the kitchen table, eating cereal and piddling around on his phone. “Sorry I threw up on you again. I washed your clothes.”

“Not a problem. You needed to unwind.” Zevran yawned and plopped his sketchbook on the table. “Exams going well?”

“Very.” Anders yawned as reached around Zevran and put his bowl in the sink. “It’s a little late for coffee.”

“Not ready for sleep yet.” Zevran poured water into the coffee maker and turned it on. “Wash your bowl. I am tired of hearing Leli’s shit about how Anders never cleans his dishes.”

“Wow, these are lovely. Who is this?”

“Woah, private!” Zevran reached for the book but Anders held it above his head.

“But… wow, look at this. Look at the tits on-”

“Anders… I am going to hit you if you continue speaking about her this way.”

“But, no, look, I mean… this is a real person? Or did you make her up? She's… _hot!_ ” Anders held the book above his head and Zevran just could not stoop so low as to jump after it fruitlessly.

“You are one tall asshole, Anders, but Zevran can still reach your testicles.”   

“She’s fucking beautiful, though! Aw she's biting her knuckle!” He giggled and sighed, flipping another page. “Those curves! Beautiful work! I would totally hit that.”

“She is a _woman,_ Anders! A person! She is not for… for _hitting!”_

“Oooh so she _is_ real! What’s her name?”

“Fuck!” Zevran pressed his thumb and forefingers to his temples.

“Don’t lie.” Anders chuckled, flipping the page. “Ooh more nudity!” He held the book closer to his face.

Leliana came from her bedroom in her robe. “Anders, quit tormenting Zevran. Give me that!” She grabbed the book and just happened to see the page that was open in front of her face. “Oooh lovely work! Can I look?” She flipped a page without waiting for an answer.

“No, Leli, it is private.” Zevran sighed and sat at the table, admitting defeat, his forehead landing on his arms. “Fucking fine, just… give it back to _me_ when you’re done,  instead of handing it to _Tall Asshole_ over there.”  

“I wasn't meaning to torment you. I’m sorry.” Leliana chuckled and closed the book, handing it to him. “We need to talk about this, Zevran.”

“What? What do we need to talk about?” Anders sat at the table with Leliana, intrigued. Zevran, the unfazeable, seemed to be fazed. Over a _woman!_ This was _too_ juicy.

“The other night at the club, Zevran hit it off with a woman.” Leliana explained briefly. “Now he’s met me for lunch at the diner she works, so he could see her… I’m not stupid, Zevran. It's alright I’m not offended. And now he’s sketched her twenty times.”

“Twenty-seven.” Anders corrected her. “It’s a thirty page book and he only has three pages left. Don’t look at me that way I had to look quickly he was about to punch me in the balls.”

“I still might.” Zevran glared, feeling embarrassed and frustrated. “Yes, we hit it off. So what?”  

“Ask her out.” Leliana spoke plainly. Zevran didn’t answer her. “You can’t just keep drawing her and exchanging lusty smirks forever, do something about it!”

“Mmm.” Zevran furrowed his brow at her. He thought about it for a moment. “Hmm. No.”

“What?” Anders chuckled. “Why not? Is it because your specialty is banging and not dating, and she refused to bang you?”

“Fuck off, Anders. I am not trying to bed her.” Zevran sighed and glanced up at them, agitated. “My specialty _is_ banging, and not dating. Nyla, is too good for just banging. She is just a muse.”

“Holy shit, text her.” Leliana practically begged him.

“You have her _phone number?!”_ Anders facepalmed. “Dammit, Zevran. Ask her out. Do you even _hear_ yourself?”

“Mmm.” Zevran sighed and stood up to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Still no.”

“Too good for _just_ banging. She is _just_ a muse.” Anders palms flopped helplessly to the table. “Do you even fucking hear yourself?”  

“Yes, Anders, just a muse. Being with her I feel inspired, passionate, she breathes life into my creativity. Date her? I hardly know her! Why is this so confusing to you?”

“Wow. Wow... That’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but dating someone is how you get to know them. Don’t you imagine… I don’t know…” Anders floundered, “I mean, that’s beautiful, and with a foundation like that, it could be _more_ beautiful.”

“Exactly.” Leliana sighed gratefully, and extended a fist to Anders, that he met with his own triumphantly.

“I will think on it.” Zevran grabbed his book and his coffee and stood.

“Listen.” Leliana spoke seriously, “We notice you, we live with you, care about you. You haven’t been sleeping enough. You have been drinking way too much coffee, holed up in your room listening to the same song over and over, and drawing her over and over and it’s not going to fill the gap of at _least_ trying to get to know her.”

Zevran narrowed his eyes at them. They weren’t chuckling or teasing, just looking at him in concern and earnest intent. Anders nodded in agreement, continuing their argument.

“We have known you long enough to know that you’re in unfamiliar territory, Zev. You have stumbled upon a good thing. Take some advice. Reach out to her. You stand only to gain.”

“I appreciate your concern and your care. I will think on it.” Zevran spoke seriously, and went back to his room to fill his last three pages.

They just didn't understand the relationship between artist and muse. To date her was risky. If she turned out to be a terrible person it would spoil the dream, turn his art into a horrible memory, and his art was his only means of expressing his love. _No,_ in dating her, he would ruin his muse.

 

*******

Nyla hadn’t seen Zevran in days. She had hoped he would come around, but at the same time, she was glad he didn’t; it would help her get over him sooner. Pushing away loneliness and longing, she went to work, she went home, played video games, drank some coffee, did all of the normal Thursday night things. Still, his number was in her phone so she hid it from herself in the microwave. It simply made her feel better.

Needing serious distraction, she bought another video game for her xBox One, watched a sad movie, then an anime. She tried fucking herself silly but that didn’t help, she only ended up thinking about him a lot more. _Fucking grow up Nyla, with your crush, god damn!_ And then she resorted to writing again. Too many thoughts, too many feelings, and they were irrational and stupid.

 

 _Muse_

_Primordial attunement._

_I request your nakedness_

_Bare yourself, my muse, disrobe_

_Disclose_

_Bare yourself to me - that in your nakedness, I am unclothed_

 

_There has never been a time without breath and beating heart - in your presence the experience unfolds_

_from conscious incompetence to conscious competence I unfold - I can see the face of another_

_but not my own_

_The dance between personal and transpersonal_

_Where language stops being a structure of sound: primordial attunement_

_I request your nakedness - that in your nakedness, I am unclothed_

 

Nyla snapped her book shut and threw it across the room. _Enough of your shit Nyla, Jesus Christ just go to bed!_ She laid there staring at the ceiling thinking about the words that poured from her. Did she really crave so much of him? So soon? Giving up on sleep, she retrieved her book from where it was splayed open on the floor. She wrote.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Nyla can't, and poor Zevran can't even.

Zevran, was prepared for his next client. Everything was in order, his workstation clean, sterile, and for at least  the next four long hours, he would be tattooing another stranger.

“He’s in that area back there.” A familiar voice rang out, and he stood to greet them.

“Nyla?” He blinked in surprise, tilting his head.   
  
“Hey.” She smirked, but it was a soft smirk; it was such a relief to see him after a long week of wanting to. Her heart was beating hard as they locked eyes.  _ Why are we not banging? _

“Is my Waitress here by referral?” He smirked knowingly, and sighed deeply. She looked radiant, a touch lonely.

“Leliana overheard me talking about wanting to get a tattoo, she made the appointment for me. I didn’t know you were a tattoo artist.” She felt very suddenly underdressed, with her hair down, no makeup, knee length black skirt and white tank top. She had dressed for comfort.

“Reception will do anything Leli asks. It takes months to get an appointment with me.” He chuckled, smiled and offered her a seat on the elongated chair, and plotted Leliana’s demise. “You look lovely with your hair down.”

“Thank you.” Her heart felt like it would melt. It was a compliment. One that didn’t involve anything getting eaten. “It’s good to see you, Zevran.” After days of mooning, writing, masturbating and slapping her own hand as it reached for the microwave, the relief was sharp.

“Mmm?” He sat on his stool and scooted close to her. He met her eyes and tilted his head, stared at lovely bare lips, smooth skin that had never needed makeup, beautiful eyes that looked more tired and sad without it. “It is a pleasure, as always, my Waitress.”  

“That’s cute.” She chuckled, clutching her journal closer to her. She had intended to write as she got tattooed, and not that she wanted to anymore, now it wasn’t even possible.

“They told me a little about you, you have scars to cover?” He felt sad, imagining perfect skin scarred.

With a nod, she leaned back, and with a flirty smile, hiked up her skirt to reveal creamy white skin around a skin graft. Burned from knee to hip on her outer thigh. Not the first time he had ever tattooed over a burn scar, but the imagining one on his muse  was heartbreaking.

“I want a dragon.” She chuckled. “I like mythological creatures. It was either a dragon or a griffin. I brought the art I want.”

“How old is the scar?” He leaned forward and ran a palm over her skin. So soft, ridged, and his hand nearly spanned the width of it. He got to caress his muse, and it was over a grievous wound.

“It will be two years old, in three weeks.” She spoke softly. “Is it too soon?”

“It looks fine.” He stroked her thigh gently with his thumb. He wondered what happened to her. He ached to imagine her in pain. “Eaten today?”

“Yes.”

“Any drugs or alcohol today?”

“Nothing but Tylenol.”

“Drink lots of water?”   
“Yes. I have the internet so I did what the internet told me to do.” She smiled, somehow unable to meet his eyes. His palm still rested over her burn scar and it was distracting, her heart was racing, and the poor man was just trying to do his job. “This means a lot to me, Zevran. I have wanted to do this for a long time. To make my leg beautiful.”  _ To chase away the memories. _

“Your leg is beautiful.” He whispered, leaning forward and inviting her gaze meet his, he followed up with a smile. “And so are tattoos. I’ll prepare your art.” Covering her leg with her skirt, he left the room walking briskly. This was bad. His muse was starting to become more human by the minute, and his curiosity was building. He went to the office and took out his phone.

 

_ Dammit, Leli. _

 

_ :) _

 

_ Don’t you :) me. _

 

_ :) _

 

_ You are dead to me. _

 

_ Ask her out to dinner. Bring her here afterward, show her your spot on the roof. I’ll get you some wine. _

 

_ Dead people talking to me. _

 

_ Don’t you have a luscious thigh to tattoo? _

 

_ So much hate for you right now, Leli. _

 

_ Liar :) _

 

_ I’m at work! What am I supposed to do, flirt with her? _

 

_ Talk to her like a person? Get to know her? _

 

_ BAH! Okay do you think tonight might be too soon? Perhaps I should say a different day? _

 

_ LOVELY! No, tonight is good. It’s Friday, shows that you’re excited. This isn’t going to be as hard as you imagine. Nyla is cool! _

 

_ It is not definite. Orange juice for Nyla. Hate you so much Leli. _

 

_ <3 _

  
Upon looking at the art she had chosen, imagining her thigh; it didn’t fit her. He didn’t imagine she would like it. The shape of the scar, the contours, the shape of the dragon, this wasn’t going to work. He quickly made a transfer. He could freehand easily, he was known for it, but he needed to show her. He shook his head; his muse was in his tattooing chair.

Pulling his hair up in a quick ponytail, he walked back to her. She snapped her little black book shut and tucked it under her arm.

“Hey.” He let his arm rest against hers on the armrest of the chair as he slid onto his stool- touching her felt electric and they both sighed. They both noticed the touch, their mutual sigh, and they chuckled. “I wanted to show you this. Please raise your skirt for me.”

“Bold,” she purred, and exposed her thigh. He smirked and said nothing, and she remembered the poor man was trying to do his job. “I like your hair up like that.”

With limited sensation in that part of her body, she could barely feel his touch, vaguely felt cool water on her leg, and he pressed a sheet of paper to her outer thigh, where it snaked around, ending above her kneecap.

It was too intimate, slow deliberate movements of his hand gliding along his muse’s thigh. Grateful for loose pants, he looked up at her, waiting for her reaction.

“Well.” She spoke softly, and looked back up at him. “That looks like shit, Zevran.”

“Mmhmm. I thought you might think so.” He soaped a small sponge and began washing away the blue lines gently.

“How could you know that without seeing it first?”

“I picture things easily. I have an eidetic memory. I could just tell.”

“So you look at something and remember it forever in picture perfect clarity?”

“For the most part. I think so, but it’s odd, I don't imagine I remember every moment of my life.”

“Perhaps not every moment, but the big ones. Jesus Christ that sounds horrifying.” She sighed and impulsively rested her hand on his knee. “I couldn’t imagine.”

She was the only one he had ever told who understood that aspect of the reality; for one with an eidetic memory who has seen true horror, there was no sanctuary. He felt  _ seen.  _ When their eyes met, there was a felt sense of kinship they had no way of knowing was mutual, but it was palpable. Eyes soft and locked, he continued his business, painfully aware of the delicate hand about his thigh’s distance away from his dick.

“I think in sound and color.” She smiled and ran her palm idly along his thigh. She didn’t mean to; she didn’t even notice. “Always sounds or songs, and if I look at them with my mind’s eye, I see two-dimensional… colors, sometimes a whispered word. The song always seems to be spot on with how I'm feeling. It always surprises me.”

“That sounds pleasant.” He tried to imagine it, but all he could picture was the flash of dark blue panties he saw just a moment before as he was drying her thigh. She was caressing his, and it felt relaxing and sensual.

“Would you like to look at some art?” Dragons had never been his thing, but they suddenly were. “I could draw you a dragon.”  _ I would do anything you wanted, right now. _

“Ah, a Zevran original. At that rate, why make you draw it when you could just start tattooing?”

“So you would know you like it.” He chuckled, reaching for paper and pencil and coming back to her. “Give me twenty minutes.”

“Do you think I would like it?” She leaned over to see the paper, and her face was mere inches from his.

“I think you will like it.” He looked up from his paper and smiled. Nyla’s eyes were wide, lips parted, a lock of hair obscured her right eye blocking his view and he wanted to move it.

“Lay it on me, pretty boy.” She laid back playfully. “Give me a thing to sign that says I won’t bitch if it turns out to be the worst.”

“You already signed that before you came back here.” He chuckled happily, snapped on rubber gloves and prepared his tattoo gun with excitement.  _ The muse becomes the canvas.  _ It took his breath away. “We’re just going to do the outline today, and then in a couple weeks when it has healed, we will color it in.”

“How come?” her heart leaped with excitement as the needle buzzed in his hand.  _ This is it. Maybe now I can forget. _

“Because of the pain.” He spoke softly, “It varies, on scar tissue. Let me know if you need a break.”

“It couldn’t possibly hurt worse than getting it.” She whispered.

“I know the feeling.” He smiled warmly- she was making him feel warm. The buzz of the tattoo gun made her jump, and he chuckled at her. “Jumpy, Nyla. Is this your first tattoo?”

“Yes.” She bit her lip as the needle pressed against her skin. “It’s not that bad.”

“It varies, just don’t relax into it. It will change.” He tried to be gentle with her. “Let me know if you need me to stop.”

“I will… thank you, Zev.” After several minutes of watching the needle drag along her skin, she asked, “The swoopies on your face, are those your only tattoos?”

He smiled, “No, I have something similar all over.”

“All over your entire body? I’d love to see that. Ow.” She laid back and stared at him openly as he concentrated. He was beautiful, with wisps of hair falling against his cheeks, prominent lips subtly pursed in concentration. His hand moved with skilled, confident precision. She hissed and cringed. “Ow. Ow… this is it… this is my life now!”

Reception laughed in the distance, and Zevran paused his tattooing to smile and release a bout of silent laughter. Honest smiles were getting easier, and being with her was getting sweeter. The muse had become a real person, and he just knew he was done for. He had to draw her. He had to date her. It was confusing.

“Does the tattoo on your face mean anything?”

“I would love to tell you about it. Perhaps over dinner?” He kept his eyes downcast, concentrating on his work. His heart leaped hard as he asked, and she was silent for a few moments. He added quietly, “Tonight, after we finish.”

“I would… like that very much.” Nyla spoke breathily. “Though, I would much rather wear something nice to go out with you.”

“Simplicity is just as beautiful and elegant as anything, my Waitress.” He purred quietly, flicking his eyes up to her with a smirk.

“Flatterer.” She blushed as he repositioned, his eyes gleaming as his elbow settled between her knees. “I want tacos,” is all she had to say.

“Done.” He chuckled, “You are comfortable?” His voice was suggestive and Nyla’s heart thudded hard in her chest at the hungry glance that slid over her form to meet her eyes.

“Um.” She swallowed thickly and laid back a little more comfortably. “Probably.”

They were silent for a time, enjoying the contact of skin against skin. The needle pressed into her, and brief swipes cleared away ink and blood.

“Have you been tattooing for long?” She withheld the urge to move those golden strands of hair hanging down his forehead. The desire to touch was strong and she clasped her hands together, toying with her fingers nervously.

“Ten years. I started at seventeen from my home, practiced a lot on… friends, and a girlfriend I had at the time. Apprenticed at nineteen. Took a year long break and started apprenticing again when I moved here to San Francisco.”

“Ah. You’re five years older than me.” She mused, nearly reaching out to brush his hair, instead picking up her book to play with the corners of the pages. She needed to keep her hands busy so she wouldn’t fondle this man that she barely knew. It was  _ hard.  _ “And you draw as well, I assume? Painting?”

“Both, when I am inspired. Mostly painting.” He sighed, his stomach quivering with nervousness, desire, and the need to concentrate on the little lines of his muse’s dragon. “I have been inspired lately. To draw.”

“Oh? Will you tell me about it?” Enjoying the easy conversation, she fixated on his movements, and twitched with the subtle shots of intermittent pain. It didn’t hurt like she had imagined it would, and his gentle touch was surprising.  _ Such skilled, steady hands, _ she admired _. _

“It is very personal.” It started to get too hot suddenly, and his forehead felt damp. He needed to change the subject. “Your book that you keep nervously fiddling with, what’s in it?”  

“It’s personal.” Nyla chuckled and cringed a little as the needle dragged along a sensitive patch of skin. “I hadn’t written in a while, but last night I found myself inspired. I enjoy poetry. I like to try writing it.”

“Try?” Zevran recognized her twinge of self-doubt, he used to have some when he first started in his artistic endeavors. “What do you mean by try? You believe you’re not doing it well enough?”

“Well… I suppose it does get better when I am feeling something big, or if I have a muse and it flows more easily.” Nyla bit her lips and cringed.  _ Too much goddamn information shut your face oh my god. _

“Mm… do you like poetry apart from writing it?” He had sensed her nervousness, and didn’t want to pry into her private world any further than she was willing to go. Not right then, anyway.

“Oh yes. I enjoy words. Writing can get exhausting though.” Her hand finally moved itself, and brushed his hair, tucking it behind his ear. In that moment, she wanted to punch her own face so hard.

“Thank you.” He paused to smile at her, and her eyes were wide, as if she were afraid, but he didn’t want her to be afraid. He had enjoyed her touch, and wanted to continue talking. “I cannot do that with my hands, you know. Unsanitary.” When she visibly relaxed, he continued, “Exhausted? By words?”

“By words, by talking, by trying so hard for just the tiniest modicum of understanding.” With a sigh, she closed her eyes, focusing on the pain of Zevran’s needling for a moment; distraction from a harsh reality made only louder by the loneliness she consistently felt. Though… she wasn’t feeling it now. “Sometimes I wish I could feel as drawn to sketching or painting, so I could just show someone.  _ Look,  _ this is what I love.  _ These _ are my desires.”

“Mm.” He thought for a moment, trying not to reflect too deeply on the truth and flaws of what she was saying. “Do you imagine one could not recognize it in your written word?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nyla writes, she writes to show her love, to express desires.” He looked up at her, and the sound of the needle stopped.

“Yes.” She breathed, she could hear her own heart beating, yet the sound of his voice was so calming.

“Do you imagine if you were to show your book of love and desire to someone, they could not understand? Or even relate?” Neither of them noticed he had stopped tattooing to meet her eyes.

“Maybe. They might, but when I imagine doing that, it feels too vulnerable.” Holding her book close to her heart, she stroked it with her fingertips.

“You would feel less vulnerable if that were a book of sketches in your hand?” Every movement, every flicker of emotion from her was settling in him, the tension in his belly melting away in beholding her.

“Wow… no. Now that I really think about it.” Her hand rested on his arm, and her fingers dragged along smooth skin. “I imagine it would be more vulnerable. Every pen stroke visible, meanings more hidden to the naked eye, more subject to interpretation… I would feel less understood, especially if its meaning was… unclear to even myself.”

“Yes.” He whispered, smiling with her, melting with her, feeling understood and... satisfied. He needed to draw her.

“Hey Zev, I’m going to take off early.” A head poked in the cubicle, and she looked surprised. “Sorry for interrupting. I’m going to take off, lock you in here. This place is dead. You okay with that?”

“Yes, thanks, Emily. See you Tuesday.” Zevran sat up and cleared his throat. “I will lock up on our way out.”

Zevran retrieved more ink to resume his work. They were now alone in the building, and he felt surprisingly more relaxed with her. Now he could flirt.

“Is that what it’s like for you?” Nyla asked, drawing his attention back to her. “To show your sketches.”

“Mmhm. Exactly.” He scooted close to her  again, with his elbow resting on the arm of the chair. “Nyla?”

“Yes?” Too eager to hear anything he had to say, she stared into his eyes, leaned up on her elbows.

“I need to work on your hip now.”

“Okay. That’s fine.”

“Panties in the way.” He politely swivelled in his stool, giving her privacy.

“Ahh…” Nyla chuckled nervously.  _ And now I’m going to get the back of my goddamned skirt wet. Fuck.  _ “I want to make a joke about pretty boys and their panty-removing prowess but… I have nothing.”

“Close enough.” Zevran chuckled, sighed and shook his head. “Nyla.”

“Okay I’m ready. Is this supposed to burn? It burns.”

“Yes. This is normal. Some say it feels much like a sunburn. For me, more like cat scratches.” He adjusted the chair to lay all the way back,  and assumed his position, elbow between her thighs, both hands busying themselves at her hip.

“That hurts.” She gripped the arms of the chair and focused on breathing.

“Too much?” He kept going, waiting for her to tell him to stop. The skin of her hip had more bumps, ridges, inconsistencies, and it made sense to him that she would hurt more.

“No.” She lied, trying to push through it. Eyes closed, hands gripping the arms of the chair, sweat dripping down her temples. The sound stopped. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her white knuckles on the chair. His eyes traveled upward to meet hers.

“Let's take a break.” He smiled and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

He went to the back office. Tylenol, chewing gum, bottled water, a pack of crackers, and two stress balls for his poor Waitress to squeeze.  

 

_ Leli. _

_ Leli. _

_ Leli. _

 

_ Yes yes? What? _

 

_ I still hate you. _

 

_ OMG WHAT HAPPENED? _

 

_ :) _

 

__ Don’t you :) me Zevrab!!!  
*Zevran!  


 

_ Talk later, luscious thigh waiting. _

 

_ YOU ASKED HER OUT THEN??  
_

He left her hanging, and it was satisfying. When he walked in, Nyla was humming and staring intently at the ¾ completed outline of her dragon. She was a lovely sight, her tender curiosity was beautiful. He needed to draw her.

“What song is this?” He sat down and presented her with the Tylenol and bottled water. She took them immediately.

“It’s called Sanctuary. It’s by Utada. She’s a Japanese singer, but I like the English version of the song better… It got too quiet in here. I love the dragon you have drawn on me. So far, anyway.”  

“Chewing gum.” he held it out to her. “You were clenching your jaw, gum will help you relax. And crackers. Pain causes fatigue… you need calories. And these are for your hands. It will be better than chair arms.”

“This is… I mean, I know you’re doing your job but it feels like you care. This attention from you feels nice.” She cleared her throat nervously and took a sip of water.

“I do care.” He quirked an eyebrow at her and tilted his head. “How can you not differentiate my professionalism from my actual care?”

“I think it’s because you aren’t what I expected.”

“And tell me exactly what did you expect?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“A lot of things! That you would be detached, cocky, aloof, snobby, that you would meet the stereotype of a beautiful person. Quick to grow disinterested. You’re just… too good looking. The type of person that never wants for human contact because people are always after them.” She looked away nervously. “It’s why I call you the unobtainable hotness and store my phone in the microwave. ”

“Hold on.” He laughed and leaned forward, resting his chin on the heel on his hand. “Okay, that was a lot to digest, Nyla. I have some rebuttals, and I have some questions, if I may?” When she nodded with her mouth full - adorable  even when she eats - he continued, “First, I want to say, all of those things, with the exception of cocky, are untrue. People do ‘come after me’ as you say, but they only want sex, and I just want those around me to be happy. I am never approached for romance, I shudder to think that is the case because of my beauty. And now for my question; Unobtainable hotness?”

“Oh lord. I said that didn’t I?” Her cheeks turned bright red as she took a drink from her water bottle. Feeling more alert, she was alert enough to remember all the weird shit she just said and she wanted to fucking  _ hide.  _ “Okay I’ll elaborate on that. I believe, that someone with an appearance such as yours, which happens to be a little overwhelming at times, I imagine if we were romantic together, you would pretty much break my monogamous heart immediately, first chance you had. First pretty thing that walks by-”

“I happen to be a  _ very  _ loyal person!” Zevran furrowed his brow at her, his chest hurting,  _ does everyone think this about me?  _ “So in saying all of this, you  _ thought  _ I was this ‘unobtainable hotness,’ do you imagine me obtainable now?”

“Jesus.” She sighed, burying her face in her hands. “The intensity between us is just, fucking…  _ intense.” _

“I can handle intensity, Nyla. I happen to enjoy the intensity of being with you. I don’t  _ want  _ to be comfortable all the time, I don’t want to always hear what I want to hear. I want to feel the intensity of telling too much, revealing too much. Sometimes even asking too much.”

Nyla leaned forward, they were sitting close together, tattoo forgotten.

“I didn’t mean the intensity is a bad thing! To answer your question, Zevran, yes, I do find you obtainable, and I’m  _ intrigued. _ I want to… to…  fuck.”  She ran her hand over her head, exasperated. She had almost told unobtainable hotness she wanted to try to obtain him.

“Same.” He chuckled.

“No, I meant I’m fucking exasperated! Not that I  _ don’t  _ want… goddammit. You're teasing me!” She leaned back in the chair, covered her eyes, and laughed hard. “Jesus tap dancing Christ, Zevran.  _ Fuck!” _ _  
_

“You’re too cute.” He smirked, and she had turned her smiling, pink face to look at him. He needed to draw her. “Too cute. Too funny, Nyla. And I love to watch you dance.”

“Really.” She sat up and sat close to him. This was fucking  _ surreal.  _ It didn’t feel like her life. Her stomach fluttered, and she went for it. She leaned in, and kissed him full on the mouth.

She was trying to be bold, it was supposed to be brief, but he met her kiss enthusiastically. His fingers ran through her hair, pressing her lips against his, he was generous with his tongue, Nyla reciprocated, and it was sublime. They moaned simultaneously, and both pulled away breathlessly.

“Oh my  _ god _ that was nice.” Nyla stared at him, wide eyed. “I can’t believe I just did that. I wanted to do that so badly.”

“I’m glad you did.” Zevran chuckled happily, enjoying watching her squirm. “Awesome kissing, brave Nyla.”

“You are just… this is… oh my god finish my tattoo. You fucking unicorn.” She flopped back, stuffed some gum in her mouth. “Go on. I need... some god damn tacos, Zevran. And to call flood control.”

“Nyla.” He laughed hard, resting his head on her knee momentarily as he made his way into position. “It shouldn’t take more than another hour. Faster if you let me concentrate. Perhaps if you stop smelling so good that would be helpful for my concentration.”

“You’re going to kill me. Flirting. Nestling between my thighs. Jesus.” She laughed, but she abandoned laughter pretty quickly as the needle was pressing against her skin again.

“Nyla, tell me when it’s too much. We do not have to finish the outline tonight.”

“No, I want you to. I’m okay.”

They were silent for a while so Zevran could concentrate, Nyla breathed through the pain, which came and went in varying degrees of intensity. She breathed, she chewed her gum, she squeezed the stress balls, and then he was done, and she was shaken.

“Know any good poems?” Zevran asked softly, trying to distract her as he cleaned and bandaged her thigh.

“There is one poem by Rainer Maria Rilke that I have read so many times I know it.” She laid there watching him, waiting for her head to clear. “I mean… sorry, my head is foggy and I feel a bit high, and really tired. I mean I love the poem, which is why I read it. A lot of times so I know it.”

Zevran  removed his rubber gloves and sat on his stool next to her, she looked tired and overheated, and he rested a hand on her arm.

“Endorphin rush will give you a high feeling. Tell me your poem, brave Nyla.” The only thing that felt weird about running his fingers through her hair was that it wasn’t weird at all.

“World was in the face of the beloved- but suddenly it poured out and was gone. World is outside. World cannot be grasped. Why didn’t I? From the full, beloved face, as I raised it to my lips. Why didn’t I drink? World, so near that I couldn’t almost taste it?” She took a shaky breath, melting beneath rapt attention and the intensity and softness in his gaze. “Ah… I drank. Insatiably, I drank. But I was filled up also, with too much world. And drinking, I myself ran over.”  

“I like it very much.” his fingers continued brushing her hair, and the skin of her cheeks was returning to it’s normal shade of creamy white. “It makes me think of how you must feel when you are dancing.”

“Yes!” She smiled wide at him, feeling understood. “I wish I could write like Rilke. Hey Zev? I don’t want tacos. I’m sleepy.”

“This makes sense to me. Sometimes when the body undergoes this amount of stress, it compromises the immune system. Lots of rest is good. I will call you a cab. Tacos another night, perhaps?” Although he agreed with her decision to rest, he had a building excitement to take her out, take her home, show her his place on the roof. More talking, depth, revealing.

“I’m off tomorrow.” She smiled sleepily, present to the throbbing and burning in her leg. “Is it supposed to burn?”

“Yes. You already asked that, is it troubling you?” He tilted his head at her, and she shook hers. “Good, then time for brave Nyla to go home and rest. I will call you a cab.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Making quick work of cleaning up his workspace, they stood outside and waited for Nyla’s taxi. She let Zevran lay his jacket over her bare arms to protect her from a chill wind.

“Tell me, why does Nyla keep her phone in the microwave?” He rested his arm over her shoulder, and she leaned into him.

“Private.” She smiled weakly.

“Nyla.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re very guarded, for a woman who dances by herself on the dance floor.”

“I am not guarded. That particular thing is private. How long is it supposed to burn?”

“Alright Miss ‘I keep my phone in the microwave for personal reasons,” Zevran chuckled, “It should ease up  in just a few hours. Laying down will help.” He wondered if the pain was making her nervous, interrupted by the arrival of her cab, he had no opportunity to ask. “That was quick.”

“Thanks, Zev.” She slid his jacket off and handed it to him. “I will see you soon? Tacos?” Some awkwardness occurred as he opened the car door for her. “Ooh, chivalry.”

“Remember to change your bandage and use the cream I gave you. You may call or text me if you have concerns. Are you alright?” She seemed off, and he didn’t believe her when she nodded, refusing to meet his eyes.

She looked back at him through the rear window of the taxi, and he was looking back with his head tilted and softness in his eyes; it made her feel lonely.

 _It burns but it’s okay. Zev put it there. Zevran original._ Her heart rate was rising, she couldn’t find her headphones. She needed music, and when she couldn’t have it, the loneliness intensified, her arms started to feel numb.

“Please pull over.” She tried to mask the building panic, but it was getting a little hard to breathe. The cab smelled funny. Her leg was _burning._ She reached into her purse and grabbed a ten dollar bill. “I want to walk instead. Take this for your trouble.” Her own voice occurred as far too loud in the silence of the car.

“We only drove half a block, you don't have to do that.” The man pulled over next to the curb. “You alright?”

“Okay thanks.” She dropped the bill on the front seat, pushed the door open and a flash of terror hit as she flung herself out of the car, nearly falling over. She couldn’t shake the fear; her leg was _burning._

Making her way to the sidewalk, the cab left and she dug through her purse for her headphones again. Sweating, heart pounding, she grabbed her cigarettes and tried to light one and a flash of fire scared her, making her recoil and the lighter take flight. She sat on a bench, and her leg bounced nervously, and cold on her sweat dampened skin made her shiver. _I can’t even smoke._ _I want my mom. It burns, mom. It’s a tattoo. Zevran original. My dragon._

“Nyla?” He panted, “What happened? Did something happen in the cab?” Having seen her hurl her body from the car and scramble to the sidewalk, he was afraid for her, and he ran as hard as his legs would carry him.

“I’m upset.” She spoke shakily followed by a deep breath; relieved to see him, his voice was calming.  He picked up her cigarettes and her lighter.

“What about?” Breath slowing, he removed a cigarette from the pack, offered it to her, and she took it between her lips. The flash of fire made her flinch. One drag and her nerves began to settle, a glance at his concerned gaze  and she started to feel safer.

“You need a friend.” Zevran spoke and removed his jacket, gently draping it over her shoulders again. She nodded, a little embarrassed for her panic, and not wanting to admit she had nobody to call on, that she would have sat on that bench for hours until she could will her legs to drag her to the safety of her home. He sat silently with her until she finished her cigarette, not wanting to pressure her to imagine she had to speak or do anything at all. In that moment, Zevran just wanted to be her friend. “Come with me to my place? Zevran has great friends, and a rooftop. I think you will like it.”

With a nod, Nyla followed Zevran’s lead, a protective arm over her shoulders. There was something so utterly normal about what was happening, it wasn’t normal for Nyla to simply go to a man’s house. His arm around her made her feel better, but the burning was still there. The subtle movement of her thigh jiggling with each footfall made it worse, and she wanted to be still.

“Want to tell me what happened, pretty Waitress?” His eyes smiled at her, and she melted. “You panicked?”

“Almost two years ago I was in a fire.” She looked at the ground. “Long story short. I don’t really want to go into it, please.”

“Of course.” Expressive face and posture, Nyla had shared as much as she was able, and it was all he could ask for.  Even as she occured to be suffering, he still enjoyed being close to her. Holding her tight, his hand on her opposite shoulder, his muse was snug and perfect beneath his arm. He felt a certain _pride_ to be walking with her, this lovely woman with too much personality and too many feelings.

He lived only two blocks away. His home was clean and warm, and Zevran pulled out a chair for her to sit at his kitchen table. Zevran’s muse was sitting at his kitchen table with her little black book of love and desire, and he had to draw her.

“I live here with Anders and Leliana. My room is upstairs. Leliana’s room is at the end of that hallway, and Anders’ room is that door right there.” He pointed. “Would you like a drink?”  

“Hi, Zev.” Anders came out of his room with a thick schoolbook in his hands. “We have company?” He looked up, and dropped his book on the table. “Holy _shit,_ Sketchbook Girl.”

“It’s not a sketchbook, it’s a journal.” She smiled, toying with the corners of her black book. “Hi Anders. Lovely to meet you while you’re not busy dancing on a table.”

“I wasn't dancing. Zevran Arainai, we need to have a meeting. Right now. Come here.” He grabbed Zevran by the arm and dragged him away to his room.

“Oooh... Arainai.” Nyla spoke the pretty word and it rolled off of her tongue so nicely. She hadn’t even thought to ask! She could hear Anders speaking in hushed tones, but couldn’t catch the what he was saying. She tried, though.

“What the hell, Zevran! You invited Sketchbook Girl over? Why didn't you _tell_ me you decided to woo Sketchbook Girl? This is a big deal, Zevran! Nobody ever has the balls to woo their Sketchbook Girl! I certainly didn’t think _you_ did. Oh my _god._ I cannot believe this. Sketchbook Girl is at our kitchen table and you couldn’t have even taken a moment to send a text? _How_ is this even happening?”

“I’m surprised you do not already know. Leliana made an appointment for her at my parlor to get a tattoo-” he began, and didn’t even get the time to share the complexities of it all. He wanted to share that _she_ kissed _him._ Sure, he devoured her as soon as her lips met his, but she started it.

“That _clever girl!”_ Anders laughed loudly and bounced with excitement. “I wish I could have seen your face! She’s fucking brilliant I need to go high five her.” And with that, he was out his bedroom door and running down the hallway.

When he left Anders’ room, he was trying not to laugh. Any moment they would be sitting at the table and fawning all over her, and the thought brought him joy. He _wanted_ them to come out and fawn over her.

“Sorry for the interruption. How may I serve my Waitress?”

“So much alcohol.” She sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “You’re going to kill me with that predatory look on your face.”

“Alcohol thins the blood. I would suggest avoiding it for twenty-four hours. Something else, perhaps?” He did not alter the look on his face, he only moved in closer. Zevran loved how much she enjoyed him, and how openly she spoke it; this woman’s lack of shame rivaled his own. “Water, almond milk, orange juice?”

“Orange juice!”

It was that moment Zevran’s two overzealous roommates came from Leliana’s room and stood at the end of the hallway with their giddy, playful smiles.

“Hi!” Nyla giggled, matching their happy and bright faces with her own. “It’s good to see you too.”

“How’s the tattoo? Zevran is brilliant, yes?” Leliana asked, and they sat at the table at the same time, leaning forward. _Peas in a pod,_ Nyla thought.

“I don’t like that it burns.” She gave a crooked smile and fiddled with the corners of her book. “And yes, he’s... brilliant.” _Funny, smart, sexy, eloquent, and those lips…_ Nyla felt her face heating.

Zevran placed a glass of orange juice in front of Nyla, and gave Leliana’s shoulder a squeeze as he walked by her.  

“Nyla has had a rough night.” Zevran took a seat in a chair beside Nyla,  and sat back, resting an ankle on his knee. “It was her first time getting tattooed.”

“Awww.” Anders and Leliana spoke in unison.

Zevran’s friends knew how to make someone feel loved, he enjoyed this about them. For as much as they were a pain in his ass, they were his family. They were also predictable. Leliana jumped up and retrieved a cheesecake from the fridge, and Anders put the kettle on. Zevran smoldered at Nyla as her eyes darted around at the commotion.

“You were saying?” Leliana spoke as the pair sat back down. “What was rough?”

“His jacket is over her shoulders.” Anders whispered to Leliana, completely audible to everyone.

“It reeks of leather, spanish accent, smoldering gazes and acrylic paint.” Nyla mimicked his accent with a smirk, and playfully lifted  the collar up for a sniff. “Also… sandalwood? Is it sandalwood and… grapefruit? Also a hint of accidental genuine smiling. But... something citrus and woodsy. Oh my god it actually smells good,” Nyla sighed, chuckled and her cheeks felt hot. “Shutup, Nyla.”

They were looking at her; Anders chuckled, Leliana was beaming, giggling and pointing at Zevran who was suddenly feeling very shy, hiding a wide grin behind the back of his hand. He truly did like this woman!

“One would hope he’d smell good, with all the bath oils, bath bombs and other fabulous shit Zev has taking up the edges of the tub. I’ve never seen someone so dedicated to cleanliness.”

“Look at this! Anders trying to embarrass _Zevran_. What is so wrong with wanting to smell nice? Not everyone can go six days without a shower.” Zevran countered.

“It was exam time!” Anders shrugged. “Trying to embarrass _you_ , Zevran? Does this not a _muse_ you?”

Zevran chuckled and shook his head. “Bear in mind I know where you sleep, my friend.”

Leliana nudged Anders out of the way with a plate of cheesecake in her hand. “I shudder to think what your lecture halls must smell like,” she teased. The kettle whistled, and she poured tea. “Zevran was saying, you had a rough night?”

“Yes, it was painful, exhausting, I had a bit of panic in the end there, but he was very attentive. However, I have managed to end up in good company with cheesecake in my mouth and too many beverages in front of me. Things aren’t so bad.” She sighed in contentment, closing her eyes for just a moment to savor the food, the company, the piece of her life that was separate from the loneliness she had been contending with. “Thanks! This is nice.”

“I told you she was sweet.” Leliana elbowed Anders.

“Gossip later, Leli.” Zevran chuckled, enjoying his muse’s enjoyment. She looked soft, tired, content, this was good for her. “I was saying she had a rough night so you would go easy on her, not so you would pry.”

“It’s alright, Zev. They care about you. I’m glad you have people that care about you. They’re sizing me up.” She leaned toward Zevran and whispered loudly, “I think Leliana is trying to play matchmaker.”

“Trying?” Zevran chuckled, “As if she hadn’t nailed it on the first attempt.”  Palming his face in embarrassment, he sighed. “Shit… Nyla. Making it worse.”

“Mmm! Wow.” She spoke with a smirking mouth full of cheesecake, “Worse? Or _better?”_ She was absolutely melting, and surprised she could come off so cool.

“Interesting dynamic.” Anders looked at them with his eyebrows raised. “I am be _mused.”_

“Anders asking about dynamics now?” Zevran chuckled and shot a death glare at him. _I will literally kill you, Anders.._.

“Okay,” Nyla began, “Anders, since you're curious about dynamics and the status of things on the very first night I have actually spent any substantial amount of time with this exquisite male, this is what I have gathered so far. High intensity, and brazen, overtly sexual flirting. Also, massive withholds on the depth of our feelings for each other, which we detract from _with_ the overtly sexual flirting because, well, rushing things isn’t healthy sometimes.There’s also a lot of sizing each other up, seeing what the other is available for. That part is probably going to get a little juicy at times.” She chewed her cheesecake slowly, and smirked at him. “I need to stop talking.”

The room grew completely silent, and Leliana giggled, loving every bit of what was happening. “I think she was a psych major.”

She shrugged and gently placed her fork on an empty plate. “Well… yeah. But I prefer dancing.” _See, this is why you can’t have friends. Too weird, Nyla. Too weird._

Anders cackled happily, Leliana beamed at her, and Zevran needed to draw her.

“You know what you should do? You should take Sketchbook Girl on a date to the _museum_ .” Anders chuckled. “That would be a _mus_ ing, yes?”  

“It’s not a sketchbook.” Nyla chuckled. “Oh my god, your friends are silly.”

“I know this.” Zevran stood, glaring at Anders pointedly. “It’s their only redeeming quality.” He beckoned her as he went to the stairs. “Come, I want to show you something.”

“Do you both _have_ to tell us everything? Keep it down, alright? I have exams tomorrow.” Anders shouted after them after they disappeared up the stairs. “I will not be a _muse_ d!” Looking at Leliana who was giggling uncontrollably, he laughed with her, “I’m pretty sure he’s actually going to kill me, Leli. Did you see his face?”  

Upon entering Zevran’s room, Nyla smiled at the scent of him within it, commingled with paint and canvas. It was as tidy as an artist’s room could be. Stacked canvases, paint brushes neatly organized on a table, clear plastic cups of green water, paintings on his walls.

“That went better and worse than my imagination was capable of coming up with.” Zevran shook his head. “I hope you like them as much as they like you.”

“I like them a lot. Though, I didn’t like being teased about you so I got them back by giving them far more than they asked for.”

“It was a very you thing to say, Nyla. Speaking to the point of overexposure and standing proud, or…” he shrugged and handed her a bottle of Tylenol, “sometimes completely losing your shit.”

“Oh my god.” Nyla laughed and popped two pills in her mouth. “You’re literally killing me.”

“I had no idea you were a psych major.”

“How would you? I mean,” she took his extended hand, and he guided her to climb through the open window, helping her lift her tattooed leg; his touch made her crave more.  “All we ever do is talk about the moment, and flirt with each other.”

”I never tire of either.” Zevran held her hand and they climbed the few stairs of the fire escape, and then onto the rooftop. “This is my spot. Where I relax. It’s prettiest at night.”

“It is pretty." Nyla sat next to him. “It’s a good night for a relaxing place to sit. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“It’s been a hell of a day, no?” He smiled and chuckled.

Nyla looked at him, amber-brown eyes and golden hair making her innards quiver. The way he carried himself, so masculine, so much confidence, cockiness. “I’m glad for your meddling friend.”

“Ah, Leli. Big sister, spymaster. She drives me crazy sometimes, but I trust her.” He stared at the city lights, and when he looked at her, she was devouring him with her eyes; he rewarded her with a smoldering gaze. “How is your leg.”

“It burns, but not nearly as bad as it did. I want to kiss you right now.” She spoke with a tired smile. “You look too good.” She laid back with her hands folded behind her head and looked at the sky. “Feels good up here.”

Zevran snuggled up close to her, laying on his side, propping his head up on his elbow. With a hand on her cheek, he directed her face to look at him. A thumb idly caressed her jaw, and he indulged in the many colors of her dark chocolate eyes. They accidentally smiled at each other, and he leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to hers.

Her hand caressed his face, ran through his hair and they followed up with a satisfied sigh. Laying on his back, Zevran watched the sky with her.

“Ridiculously awesome kissing, Nyla.” He whispered.

Her hand grabbed onto his. “Yes. I feel safe with you, Zev. Thanks for… intuiting my pace and not… taking things too far.”

“You are easy to read, Nyla.” He stroked her hand with his thumb.

They silently cuddled on the rooftop, Nyla dozing off several times to pop awake with a snort, Zevran enjoying her. At midnight when the chill was too much, they climbed back in the window.

“Stay the night?” He offered with a smile, “King size bed, maximum occupancy, four.”

“Oh my god.” Nyla chuckled, shaking her head. “Dammit.”  She flopped his jacket onto a chair, kicked off her shoes, and crawled under the blankets; soft, warm, surrounded by his scent. “Wait. Have you washed your sheets since the last foursome?”

“I'm kidding, Nyla. Well, foursomes, yes, but I don't bring others into my space. Only Leli and Anders come in here.”

“Thanks. I get it. That makes sense.” She glanced around his room at paintings that her eyes were too tired to focus on. “I wouldn’t invite anyone into my room if my poems were all over the walls.”

“Excuse me, Nyla. I must change,” he spoke as he began pulling his shirt off. She looked away shyly as Zevran changed into his sweatpants. Nyla couldn’t help stealing a glance. Dark swirls caught her eye briefly before his shirt slid over his stomach. She swallowed, and sighed, intrigued, wanting  to see what was under there. As he climbed in bed with her, she cuddled up to him, unshy, letting herself melt against him, her cheek resting on his chest, impressed with the firm contours of him. Her hand rested over his heart.

“Zev?” She whispered after a while. The humor was clear in her whisper, Zevran could hear her teasing smile. “I’m not wearing panties.”

“Zevran is _painfully_ aware of this, Nyla! Go to sleep.” He laughed, slinging a forearm over his eyes and pulling her tightly against him.

They slept.


	5. Chapter 5

Zevran was not accustomed to waking up so intimately entangled with someone. He laid there for a while, just feeling what it was like. Nyla was curled up with her back to him, outside of the blankets; Zevran had no idea he was a blanket thief.

Enjoying the way his little spoon was snug against him, he sighed and breathed in the scent of her hair.  He started to get unfairly, achingly hard; only storybook women actually smelled like lavender. It was ridiculous,  _ She actually smells like fucking lavender. A hint of something minty, maybe peppermint or... eucalyptus?  _ Grateful for the plush blanket between them, he pulled away. She was so  _ warm,  _ and it made getting out of bed even harder; Zevran hated being cold. That damned skirt was up, exposing the lower half of her ass cheeks and he grit his teeth, and covered her up. She was too cute as she slept. Too fucking cute. Too innocent.  _ And what a great ass! _ He needed to draw her.

Sitting in his chair, he reclined his legs on the edge of the bed and tried to remember the song she said was in her head last night. He put in his earbuds and typed in Sanctuary on his phone browser, it came up on the top hits. Utada. Kingdom Hearts soundtrack…  _ does she like this game? _ He found the song on youtube and put it on loop. _ In you and I there's a new land…  _  It was a dreamy song, like her, and pencil strokes felt so satisfying, scratching along the paper.  _ Where fears and lies melt away… _ Zevran enjoyed having her in his periphery as he drew her to this dreamy song. Even though he needed coffee, he didn’t want to wake her by opening the door.

Muse was in his bed, resting peacefully, being his muse and his… he didn’t know what to call her. It was too soon to call her anything, though he felt the impulse. She stretched out restlessly, laying on her back with a sigh, and her arm flopped across the pillow above her head. It was cute, and when she settled, she looked graceful, surrounded by the plush white of his bedcovers. Zevran wondered if he was creepy, watching her sleep like this. But it felt innocent. It felt like… reverence; surely, revering beauty wasn’t creepy.

It only took forty-five minutes for him to draw her to satisfaction. His speed was improving, this was good. He did something new; he wrote the next words from the song that he was listening to, just to give himself a more clear memory of his first morning waking up with her… and he noticed his assumption there would be more.  _ Music will tie, what's left of me now…  _ And for the first time, he wondered with a full heart what had happened to her. What fire? And wait… where was her family? Friends? Who would she have called for help yesterday if he hadn’t gone to her? Why is a psych major writing poetry, dancing and working as a waitress in San Francisco? 

Intentionally slowing down his thoughts, he was beginning to build a mental image of her with her not even there, and it wasn’t fair to her. He was staring at her and caring about her, he just sketched her sleeping form, and he was feeling impatient in waiting to know her better, to watch her unfold. A mere twenty-four hours ago she was  _ only _ his muse and now she was that and more and Zevran was fucking done for and he was absolutely cool with it,  _ GOD DAMMIT LELIANA! _

Her eyes popped open and she sat up with a sharp breath. Her eyes were afraid until she met his, and it all came back to her. Zevran’s sacred space, and he had invited her; she was excited.

“Hey.” She smiled. “You even wake up gorgeous. Jesus.” She looked around his room, eyes sweeping over his paintings. “It does feel like a sunburn. Lay with me and talk about this art you have done. Tell me what it means so I don’t get it wrong.”

“First things first.” He smirked at her, and she bit her lip. Loving her attraction to him, he plugged speakers into his iPhone, and Sanctuary played for her. He grabbed some Tylenol from his drawer, fresh bandage, and some Aquaphor to smooth over her healing leg.

“Thank you. This is so sweet.” She whispered and took the Tylenol. Following his lead, she laid back for him to change her bandage. He wore rubber gloves, and she felt pampered, she felt his care as he gently smoothed the cream on her wounds. She could cry, just feeling the relief from the burning sensation, combined with having been at a deficit for physical contact and affection for so long. Nyla’s heart fluttered when she realized he had looked up the song looping in her head ever since his hand met her thigh last night at the tattoo parlor. When the song ended, it played again and she covered her face with her hands to hide her desire to cry.

She always looped the song stuck in her head and listened to it until the urge was satisfied, and something about this moment just hit her. Unobtainable hotness was taking care of her in the sweetest of ways, on so many levels, and it was just happening so naturally. She needed to  _ write.  _ The bed moved with his weight on it, and Zevran curled up with her, his chin on his hands resting on her belly.

“Hey.” Zevran smiled. “You look sad.”

“I’m not.” Nyla lied, biting her lip nervously and then forcing a small smile.

“It wasn't a question.” He smirked, letting her have her lie. “And I had no desire for you to look some other way.”

“I assumed you did… your acceptance of what is, is so beautiful.” She burned to read her poem to him, she had no words otherwise. “What's that painting about? Why did you choose to paint Sutro Tower?” She asked, trying to change the subject, to pull away just a little from too much intimacy when she hadn’t even had her morning coffee and cigarette.

“Mmm. That one is my favorite. When I first moved here, it was a landmark for me, and a comfort to see something so familiar no matter where I was. When I lived in a basement apartment for a short time, I missed seeing it whenever I wanted to.”

“It’s my favorite, too, so far. You know, I chose my apartment because I can see the tower from my bedroom window.” Nyla reached down and tucked his hair behind his ear, stroked his forearms, stared at his lips too long.  _ Don’t mention how hot he is anymore, Nyla it’s getting ridiculous.  _ “I’m so attracted to you. God dammit.”

“I know!” Zevran chuckled, smiling at her brightly. “Always devouring me with your big eyes. I love it!”

“You would!” She spoke with good humor, and her eyes wandered to another painting. “That one, a thunderstorm? Storm clouds? That isn’t San Francisco, is it?”

“No, that is something I saw on a Greyhound bus, I’m not sure where we were. A green place, rolling hills, thunderclouds.” His stomach quivered with nervousness imagining telling her the truth. “I was on my way to San Francisco, and seeing such a landscape, so much darkness, stirring, a cleansing storm to blow away the wasteland so something fresh can be built in its place… I imagined that was what my heart looked like in that moment, and I wept. I felt hope for the first time in so long.”

Nyla stared at it for a long time in silence. Feeling the darkness, the stirring, the hope that comes after surviving total obliteration, and when she looked back at him, his relaxed and humble face was somehow more beautiful, more sweet, innocent, and so utterly human.   


“My first take on this painting, Zev,” she melted into his gaze and ran long fingers through his hair. “Was trepidation, longing, loneliness. But I did not see the hope… and now that I do, this is my favorite so far, and beautiful for far more than its colors.”

“It feels good to tell these things to you. And I can’t stop thinking about how you’re still not wearing any panties.” He smiled and laid his cheek on her belly affectionately.

She didn’t feel like laughing, caught up in his stormy painting, wondering what total obliteration occurred that had him flee to San Francisco, what caused his weeping. She barely heard herself ask the question. “Deflecting with humor or hinting at wanting sex?”

“Nyla.” He chuckled and pressed his forehead on her stomach. “So direct, forcing me to tell on myself. I was deflecting with humor.” He lifted her shirt just enough to have access to bare skin. He pressed a sweet kiss to her belly and pulled her shirt back down. “When I did that, your muscles here,” he rested a palm on her solar plexus, “they tightened. I’m imagining you need to feel a certain level of safety to fully give in to sex. Or… those muscles are telling something else. Or both.”

“I won’t tell you. You have to puzzle it out. So you’re not with me right now because you’re hoping to get laid, that feels good. Your intentions with me are becoming more clear.” She bit her lip and smiled wide with a giggle when he tilted his head at her, his cheeks heated and pink. “Gotcha.”

“Sometimes the things you say thrill me and make me want to scream. Other times they make me nervous and make me want to scream. Ultimately, I just end up with a hard-on.”

“Okay. Yes. Okay. Oh my god…” Nyla laughed heartily. “We have all of that in common.”

“Why do you see  _ everything?”  _ He laughed and sat up, straddled her and leaned over her. “I’m about to kiss the fuck out of you right now, for a long time.”

“Bring it on, pretty boy.” Nyla giggled, “Then breakfast tacos? I’m starving.”

“You must say everything, hmm? No filters at all?” Zevran chuckled against her mouth, only brushing her lips with his.

“Yes, I must say everything.” Her hands wandered along his arms. “Tease. Kiss me already.”

“And why is that,” he purred, low and sultry, his lips barely touching hers as he spoke. “Why must my Waitress speak everything?”

“Private.” He was driving her crazy,  _ fuck  _ she wanted those lips on hers, and her skin was humming with neediness bordering on pitiful.

“Tell Zevran anyway.” He whispered, teasing again with the brush of his lips, his hand went around her hip, carressing upward, his hand wandering up her shirt, resting a palm on the bare skin of her solar plexus. “Tell me a secret, my Waitress.”

“Because…” she whimpered when his lips brushed her jaw. “Because we will all be gone someday, and we don’t know when. I want nothing left unsaid. So I say it, just in case.”

“Mmm.” His nose drew a lazy line up her jaw and whispered, “This makes so much sense to me.”

She sighed heavily, he kissed her cheek so softly, and whispered again, letting his lips brush against her ear, “Thank you.” Nyla’s belly quivered beneath his hand, letting out a small squeak, a sharp inhale, shuddering shoulders. “I got you. You gave me a challenge, no? To puzzle it out?” Zevran sat up and smiled down at her. “Nyla has little orgasms just from touch.”

“You hush.” She panted, pinked cheeks, biting her lip shyly. “I can’t help it.”

“How  _ unfair!  _ How many secret little orgasms has my Waitress had right in front of me, hmm?” he tickled her briefly, and chuckled jovially.

“I can’t even tell you. Jesus.” She chuckled breathlessly, “I’m very ticklish, please don’t. Aren’t you supposed to be kissing the fuck out of me a lot? And then taking me out for tacos?”

“Now wait, I want to talk about this.” He plopped down beside Nyla leaning on an elbow to look down at her. “See, this is interesting to me, because orgasms, no matter how big or small, are not given. They are  _ allowed.” _

“Yes, that seems right. When my body feels the impulse with you, I allow myself have the orgasm.”

“That is  _ beautiful,  _ no?” He rested his head on the pillow next to hers.

“I… don’t understand.” She bit her lip and thought hard. “Why is this something to point at, to highlight, talk about? Why does this intrigue you?”

“Curiosity! When you have little orgasms, are you trusting me, or are you trusting yourself? Or do you trust yourself  _ with  _ me?”

“Mmm. You’re asking why I roll with it?”

“Yes!” Zevran ran a hand through her hair, excited for this moment, excited to be hearing her, the music, excited to draw her thinking face later.

“Are you ready to hear too much information as I try to figure it out?” She furrowed her brow and bit her lip, prepared to lay herself bare.

“My favorite.”

“I had a one-night-stand once about a year ago. It was very painful for my heart. The sex was weird and uncomfortable, I felt used even though it was totally consensual... told myself the next time I welcomed someone inside of me, I would be in love with them. Holding to this feels very difficult with you, because of how attracted I am to you. My body is practically  _ screaming  _ for you to fuck me, but my heart is telling me to slow down, to uphold the promise I made to myself. This is going to sound funny but bear with me… I feel... fucked just listening to you or looking at you, sometimes.”

“Nyla!” Zevran laughed heartily. “Little orgasms  _ without  _ touching? At that rate, what happens when we actually get to the point of fucking?” He pulled her head to his, letting his forehead rest against hers, and he felt so... free.

“Zevran?” She needed him to stop talking. He had officially said too much. He was available to fall in love, and he was expecting them to; they had that in common. She felt very still, very tearful, and kissed him deeply. 

“Mmm!” Zevran pulled away from the delicious kiss breathlessly, nervous as he had the same realization shortly after she did. “Too much talking and kissing, not enough tacos.”

“And who made you arbiter of when there is too much or not enough?” Nyla surprised him with her strength, rolling them, and straddling him. Her eyes went wide with the burning of her tattoo, and feeling his erection through his thin sleep pants, pressed snug against her bare heat. Her body wanted to tremble, and her instinct was to withhold the energetic of her little orgasm. “You’re right. Too much.” And with that she jumped up with a nervous chuckle. “I need a cigarette.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Nyla!” Zevran laughed heartily, “Do I sound like a man who would not have a keen appreciation for tacos?”

“Well I don’t know what it’s like to be… Mexican or Mediterranean or whatever you are. With that… fucking tawny skin and those lips. Damn you.”

He laughed again, enjoying the way her attraction to him brought her to frustration. “I don’t know either.”

“You don’t know your own nationality?” Her bacon and egg taco was halfway to her mouth, she was looking at him with brow furrowed and eyes blinking.

“I was orphaned. I grew up in Mexico, hence the accent and fluency in Spanish. Genetics are a bit of a mystery.”  
  
“Oh shit, really? What was that like? To be orphaned.”

“Fine.” Zevran looked away from her and shared the one thing he had any real feelings about, when it came to his orphaning. “All I know is I killed my mother at birth.”

“Oh.” Nyla’s appetite plummeted, her heart ached and swelled. “You’re assigning yourself responsibility for that?”

“Sometimes, a little.” He chuckled and nervously stuffed his mouth with chorizo and egg taco. “Nyla wanted tacos and now they sit there on her tray.” 

“I feel a bit like crying.” She chuckled, and her leg bounced nervously. “Where did your dad go?”

“I don’t know. It is old news to me, Nyla.” He smiled and shrugged. She looked soft, her care was showing, and he loved it. “Where is your family?”

“Um.” She sighed and bit into a flavorless taco. “I would rather have a happy and sexually charged breakfast with you, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s bad then?” He reached across the table and rested a hand on her arm. “Two year anniversary in three weeks? Like with your injury.”

“Nineteen days now.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. He was figuring her out and she didn’t know if she wanted him to. Let it be a mystery, let him keep seeing her as a human and not some broken, lonely thing. She was fine, most of the time. She had her moments of despair, but she has a life now. A job she enjoys, and a budding romance. “Old news.”

“Will you tell me about it later, after our happy and sexually charged breakfast?”

“I promise nothing.” Nyla’s leg continued to bounce, until a firm hand landed on her knee.

“Oooh this is a nice leg.” He smirked, and he watched her look up at him and melt beneath his gaze. She looked frustrated for a moment, and smirked, sliding down her chair, her legs parted just a little. “Nyla!” Zevran pulled his hand away and cackled. “You win.”

“Who was playing?” She felt the whisper of his touch still on her leg. “I wasn’t quite done.”

“Mmm, Nyla’s new nickname is Secret Orgasm.”

“Don’t you dare!” She chuckled and resumed eating. “Okay it’s kind of cute. At least, not in public. These are great tacos. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Too cute, Nyla, when you eat. It’s as though you cannot get enough food in your mouth at once.”

“I haven’t eaten anything but a piece of cheesecake since yesterday afternoon. I can’t subsist completely on Zevran… as appealing as that sounds.”

“Nyla.” he spoke with endearment, chuckling and shaking his head, loving their romance.

 

*******

“This is my place.” Nyla spoke with a sigh. “Not much furniture. Make yourself comfortable.” She bit her lip, for the first time wishing she had a couch or a table or _anything._

“Nyla.” He sighed and stepped into a barren kitchen, and followed her into a barren living room that contained only an enormous bean bag chair with an ashtray next to it. Not far from her seat, was a tv on the floor, and an xBox One beside it. “This is a nice apartment, and I already feel a little depressed just standing here.”

“Really, why?” She kicked off her shoes and flopped ungracefully in her enormous bean bag chair.

“So empty… this feels like such a lonely place.” Pulling off his coat and shoes, he sat next to her and they sunk into the chair together. “This bean bag chair, I like.”

“It’s not that lonely. I don’t live alone.” No sooner than she spoke the words, a very fluffy tabby cat trotted out of the back room with a loud meow. “Hello baby!” she crooned.

Zevran smiled at her kitty-speaking voice and the cat approached him apprehensively. Putting out his hand, the cat sniffed him, and proceeded to headbutt him.

“Cat likes me.” Zevran scritched its ears. “What is the cat’s name?”

“Cat.”

“Cat?” he chuckled as Cat crawled onto his lap. “Cat is sitting on me now.”

“Traitor. Hasn’t hardly seen me in two days and he sits on the stranger.” Nyla chuckled and reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “I haven’t had a houseguest since we moved here.”

“Oh? No friends?”

“I don’t really have any.” Nyla felt more ashamed speaking the words than she anticipated, and nervously reached over to pet Cat, who swatted at her hand. It made her sad. “Not that I try having them… Not that I don’t want them. I just… I have only been here a year and… I don’t know. I just like being alone, I guess.”

“Nyla.” Cat ran off as Zevran pulled her close to him. They cuddled, wrapping arms around each other and settling in, Nyla’s face nuzzling against his chest. “Awesome cuddling, Nyla.” He let out a soft, satisfied groan. “Family gone, friends gone… why?”

“Ugh.” Her cheeks started to feel hot. “You don’t want this story.”

“But I do!” Zevran laid a palm on her cheek and pet her with his thumb. Her response was a deep sigh, and it soothed him. “You don’t want to tell me the story?”

“They’re dead, Zev.” She tried to shut down her heart as she spoke, and it came out colder than she had meant it to.

“I guessed that. I want to hear the story.” He pried gently, and it seemed necessary; they can’t romance and withhold forever. “Nyla, if you tell me your story…” He got very suddenly nervous.

“If I tell you my story… what?” She looked up at him, face feeling hot, heart beating hard. She was working her way up to it.

“Then it will be easier to share mine. Please go first?” Her response was to kiss him sweetly.

“My mother and father. My sister in law, and my nephew. My fiance. All of them are gone. With the exception of my brother Fergus. We don’t talk anymore. It seems… too hard for us.”

“I’m listening.”

“We lived in Orange County, where I grew up. Fergus was training for work about 13 hours away, in Eureka. I called him for our nightly chat, and he said he missed us, he was lonely. I suggested we go see him and we loaded up the minivan and of course I _had_ to stop at every landmark... nine hours into it, we were halfway there. We got tired, stopped at a motel.”

“Your heart is beating very hard.” Zevran rested a palm on her chest.  

“I woke up in a hospital with my brother standing over me. He was crying, thanking god that I was awake and alive, and I was calling for my mother. The hotel had burned down. And like that… all of my family was gone. Apparently they dragged my half dead body from the fire. My blanket had caught fire, and that’s what happened to my leg.”  

“Nyla.” Zevran whispered sadly, running a hand through her hair and meeting her eyes.

“Alistair survived, for a while. I got out of the hospital, he didn’t wake. He never did. Fergus told me. We were staying in our parent’s house together. I was bedridden, drugged most of the time. Fergus came home one day and sat next to me and I just knew.” Sighing deeply, to slow her heart, she continued. “He said ‘I’m sorry, Nyla. He’s gone.’ I… Still hear those words as I sleep, sometimes.” She smiled weakly with a quivering mouth. “I’ve had lots of therapy. I’m alright. The hardest part is… leaving was my idea. Stopping everywhere was my idea. Sometimes, if I squint just right, when I’m in the right mood, it feels like I killed them.”

“I’m sorry.” Zevran stroked her hot face gently. Nyla was keeping her cool, but her eyes were wet, and her body was trembling and on fire. “I’m sorry, Nyla.”

“It’s okay.” She sighed, suddenly feeling very distant from the world. “I need music.” She pulled away from his sad gaze and sat on her knees on the carpet. She reached for her xBox controller.

Zevran watched her with interest as a song played. Nyla sat very still, eyes closed, she was losing herself in the music. Sitting with the pain, breathing through it, she did everything she knew to do to take care of herself in the hardest of times.

“Nyla?” He spoke softly. And she looked up at him, her face childlike and sad. “Let me borrow this?” Nyla let him take the controller and he put on a different song. A happier one. One they could dance to. “Elegant Machinery. With Grace. Zevran’s favorite song.” He reached for her hand, and she took it. He pulled her up.

“You know salsa dancing?” Zevran smirked, stepped around her, holding her hands and guiding her for a spin.

“Oh my god.” _He dances. He fucking dances. God fucking dammit holy shit fucking oh my god. JESUS._ Nyla stepped in with him. “Do I know how to salsa.” Her hands grabbed his, her hips rolled, and their arms moved together with grace. They locked eyes, the smiles and giggles were real.

They began playfully. Dancing independently, turning and circling each other. Nyla linked her arm with his, circled him, shaking her shoulders and flirting with her eyes, and it took him a moment to get his shit together to resume his dancing. Stepping, spinning together, flirty gazes and smiles, feeling each other out, puzzling out the pace and skill of the other. They moved closer, as they learned each other; how they moved, how their bodies wanted to move together. It was artful, sensual, so playful, sexually charged, and Zevran wished he could see them dancing together.

Closer, bodies coming together and backing away, he twirled her, arms wrapped around her just to let her go and bring her back again. Magnetic and inevitable, with graceful joy and eagerness, they came together, foreheads touching, his leg rested between hers, and they spun together, _writhed._ Nyla’s arms above her head, hips and waist moving with him, beneath his palms, against his chest. Guiding her to bend back, she followed his lead perfectly. Arms splaying elegantly backward, back bent, he supported her with strong arms and she giggled happily, panting as he pulled her back to him.  

Zevran pulled her, assertive, possessive, rife with burning desire to feel her against him. How he wanted her, so badly. Dancing passionately with her perfect form, how she moved, met him, followed his lead, invited him into more passion; this was a dream for both of them.

With arms above his head, encircling hers, their foreheads touching, he could feel her breath on his lips and it was intoxicating. A lusty moan escaped her parted lips, and he growled silently as her thigh pressed against his length. The song ended, and Zevran twirled her away from him, pulling her back against him, spooning her from behind, hugging her close, breathing heavily, and he groaned wantonly against her ear.

Nyla trembled subtly in his arms and reflexively grabbed his thighs, pulling him more tightly against her, moaning with her head tossed back; the secret orgasm not so secret. Zevran released her gently and she turned to face him.

Both breathing heavily, there was a seriousness to Zevran's heated gaze that she was unaccustomed to; Nyla became very present to her lack of panties and the trickle of moisture running down her inner thigh.

“Awesome dancing, Nyla.” He chuckled breathily at the awe in her expression.

“Dance with me some more.” Voice sultry, her heart was slowing.

“Will we have actual salsa music this time?” Zevran responded playfully. “So hot in here.”

Nyla picked up the remote and when she turned back around, he was lifting his shirt over his head. She backed away from him. The world slowed down, and she drank him in with wide eyes.

Body elongated, tone, muscular... _lean, compact, taut, exquisite, breathtaking, beautiful, sensuous. Oh sweet Jesus…_ His golden hair was tousled as his black, v-neck tee shirt slid over his head, muscular arms lowered as he puffed out a breath of air. The shirt hit the floor, leaving him in only his black slacks which hung a little low on his hips. “Oh my god.” She pressed a palm to her solar plexus, trying to catch her breath after what he just did to her. “Warn me if you’re going to do that.”

“Nyla!” He laughed hard at her, but she was busy staring at his tattoos and abdominal muscles rippling with laughter. “Between all the kissing, dancing, and my erection rubbing against your thigh, I honestly could not tell where the line was drawn! Is this it? Is ‘shirt off’ where the line is drawn? I can put it back on.” He paused, tilting his head at her. “Shit. I have broken Nyla.”

Her mouth felt incredibly wet. _Don’t drool, oh god._ Nyla pursed her lips, curling them inward. She blinked slowly, and she had never been so ravenous in her entire life. _His V is showing..._

“I do love the way you are devouring me with those eyes, my Waitress,” he purred, his eyes gleaming with mischief, mouth in a lopsided smile, lips pouty. His hands lifted to rest on his hips; it was not helping.

She approached him, and her hand rested on his heart, and she felt it beating hard as her hand wandered the swirls of his tattoos. Beautiful, elegant, artistic, complex, just like him. They were perfect, and they apparently traveled lower. _Oh my fucking god, this man..._ Nyla laid a hand on the back of his neck, and she pulled him in for the most searing, eager kiss that she could muster. He moaned into her mouth, pulling her tight against him. They kissed, touched, hands wandering, Nyla indulged in the contours of his muscular body, moaning, whimpering. His hand glided along her thigh, up her skirt, resting on a toned and supple bottom. He almost got lost in her, lost in the sensations of having her against him, under his hands, tongue against hers, soft full lips on soft full lips, heads moving, expressing their fervent desire; they had to stop before it went too far. Sighing, slowing, so hot against each other, burning gazes meeting, they pulled away.

Nyla took his hands in hers and smiled, bit her lip, and sighed. “The desire is strong, but the time is not right. I need to slow down. You’re just… destroying me. Fuck. I’m going to um… clean up a little. Sorry about your pant leg.”

“Not to worry, Secret Orgasm.” He purred, watching her back away.

Nyla chuckled breathily, biting her lip again, heart full, she disappeared into the bathroom.

Zevran picked up his shirt and put it on again. He could hear running water in the bathroom, and he sat on the beanbag chair, leaned back, enjoyed the way it met the contours of his body perfectly; he could sleep in this thing. He had almost dozed off before he heard his phone vibrating in his jacket. With an annoyed grunt he sat up and grabbed it, plopping back down in the chair with a sigh, sinking back into its comforts.

  
_Hey sexy what are you up to this fine Saturday night? Wanna come over? ;)_

 

Zevran sighed and looked toward the bathroom door. Nyla apparently decided an entire shower was in order, and he didn’t mind at all. He looked forward to smelling the scent of her shampoo, seeing her in a different outfit. Perhaps she would slink through the hallway to her room in nothing but a towel. Fantasizing about seeing long bare legs barely covered by a little towel, he almost forgot his text.

 

_I’m busy tonight. And unavailable for the foreseeable future. I am seeing someone now._

_Oh really. YOU are dating someone??_

_Yes. Dating someone._ _  
_

_LOL Good luck to her._

 

Zevran furrowed his brow and blinked at his phone, exasperated. His neck began to ache, and he shifted on the beanbag chair. The message was upsetting and his lips pursed with a sigh. Cat climbed onto his lap and began to purr. 

He fought the urge to rebute. _Fucking. Ouch. Good luck?_ What utter bullshit. How mean. What must people believe about him that they would say such a thing? Sure, he slept around, had plenty of fun dalliances, but none of them offered him _romance._ Why such venom? Did she want romance and find him unobtainable in the same way Nyla did? Good luck to Nyla? _Fuck these people. I’m going to date Nyla so fucking hard._ He blocked her number, and tried to push the messages from his mind, but he was still fuming.

 

_Leli_  
_Leli_  
_Leli_  
_Leli_

_Yes. Yes Zevran. Say what you want to say. You don’t have to page me first._

_I just want you to be listening as I say things._

_I know, It’s very annoying._

_Watching a movie with Anders?_

_Yes, why?_ _  
_

_No reason._

_What did you want?_

_I want to date Nyla. Romance her? Woo her? All 3?_

_Ffffj;ioe;g  
Sorry, Anders grabbed the phone. That’s wonderful! Are you with her now? _

_I’m at her place. She’s in the shower._

_OOoooooh! That escalated quickly._

_It’s not like that. She only does that when she is in love._

_Awwww!! Anders said to tell you that he also says Awwww!! That is so adorable._

_Zevran knows this!_

_Good! Is that it? I don’t want to hear four Leli’s from you five minutes from now._

_Advice? Suggestions? Anything but ‘bang her.’ That is literally my go to, Leli. I need help._

_Oh oh oh we’re excited hold on._

_Okay. Anders says to order Chinese for dinner. I say pizza, we had a short debate, and then realized that’s not actually up to us. I say you can never go wrong with wine, but Anders says don’t get wine if you want to avoid banging. I say moderate with the wine and drink enough just to relax. Invite her to watch a movie with you, something she wants to watch. Buuut Anders says you should choose something together, that the movie would be more fun that way. Anders asks what her apartment looks like._

_Nice place, but barren and full of Cat. Cat likes me._

_That’s a good thing, women love it when the cat loves you. Hold on Anders needs to hear about the cat. Tell us its name and send a picture later._

_His name is Cat._

_Anders is unimpressed._

_Same, but she mostly calls him Baby._

_Anders just squealed, it was great. Biggest piece of advice we can offer you, is don’t bang anyone while you’re trying to woo her. That’s a dealbreaker, Zevran. That whole ‘we weren’t quite in a relationship yet’ thing is very painful for a woman with such ideals._

_?????? I don’t want to bang anyone else._

_OMG THAT IS TOO SWEET. Anders agrees._

_I’m actually a very loyal person, Leli. What the hell?_

_It’s perfect. This is perfect. You’re perfect. Everything is perfect._

 

“Zevran?” Nyla came out of her bedroom. He hadn’t even noticed her leave the bathroom. Her skirt was short and loose fitting, mid thigh, in a little black body-hugging v-neck t-shirt… there was no bra beneath, nipples firm, and he swallowed thickly. Her legs were so damn long, porcelain skin, so smooth . “You looked sad a moment ago but… you seem to be something else now.”

Nyla smiled as his eyes strained to stay on her face, his lips parted, and he couldn’t help dragging his eyes over her, from head to toe. Her hair was still wet and swept back. “Damn, Nyla. Fffffuck.” _I need to fucking draw her._

“Is this too much? With all the stripping, kissing, dancing, and your erection rubbing against my thigh, I couldn’t tell where the line was drawn. Is this it? Is ‘tiny outfit’ where the line is drawn? I could change if it’s too much. Or I can drop something and pick it up.” She paused, resting her hands on her hips, tilting her head at him. “Did I break you?”

“Not broken… but suddenly the urge to make you love me has grown exponentially.” He smirked, and it became a smile.  His face felt hot. _Shit, Zevran, you said that out loud_.

“Oh my god. Why do you _always_ win!” Nyla grinned widely and threw her hands in the air. “I try to render you speechless and your comebacks are always so much more clever, sexy, dreamy and sometimes downright nerve wracking. Jesus Christ!”

“Mmm.” Zevran bit his lip. “Same, Nyla.” His heart beat hard, and his erection was so fierce it was disorienting.

“I want to offer you my shower, just anything you need, you’ll find it in there. Might even have a change of clothes for you.” She jested, turned away and Zevran watched her every move. He could see every curve, every contour of her body, those long, toned, dancer’s legs to heaven. _Fuuuuck._ She pulled out a bandage and Aquaphor from her purse and disappeared into her bedroom. He wondered if she was wearing panties, and went into the bathroom, rendered completely speechless. _Those. Fucking. Legs. Fuuuck._

Stripping bare, he sighed with the relief of an unconstrained erection; this woman was going to be the death of him. The water felt good, cooling him off and he stood there with his eyes closed as it washed over him. Fuck, she looked too damn good. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was her, those legs, the way she danced with him. She knew how to move, hips swaying, bosom wavering and jiggling. How in the world was he supposed to survive seeing the hard points of her nipples beneath that tight shirt all night? He bit his lip, and wrapped his fist around his cock, the relief of touch was intense, and he whimpered, biting his lip.  

That sly, flirty look on her face, lips subtly puckered with the sheen of lip gloss. Her eyes were so dark, glistening behind long lashes, contrasting dreamily against the smooth white skin of her angelic face. Elegant neck, delicate shoulders moved with grace as she danced for him, _with_ him. Body pressed against his, he could still feel the pressure of her breasts brushing against his chest. _Fuck._ He braced himself against the wall with an open palm as he worked himself a little faster. _Fuck_ he needed this. Needed _her._ Depth, sweetness, caring, romancing, watching his every move with fervent desire, legs around him, hands wandering his chest and shoulders… _fuck._ He pumped himself a little faster with a breathy whine he could not withhold.

Nyla’s ears perked up from her bedroom across the hall as she finished taping her bandage onto her thigh. _What was that?_ Her skin tingled, and her heart started racing. Laying back on the bed, she was very still, wondering if that was what she thought it was, wondering if she imagined it, wanting to hear more. _Is he jerking off in my shower? God I hope so._ She bit her lip and lowered her hand to rest gently on her throbbing heat, imagining him. Bare, tawny skin, water dripping down the intricate musculature of a perfect and masculine form. Wet hair, head tossed back, heavy breathing, his hand moving with practiced ease. His desire would be for her; she made him feel that way. Imagining his desire set her blood on fire. Nyla bit her lip and tipped her head back, fingers gliding along slick folds, around her pearl - she thought she heard him gasp. She gasped with him. _Fuck, Zevran, gorgeous, sexy..._

His muse’s ass beneath his hand; the pert round ass he saw in his bed that morning. Her lithe body stretched out and displayed for him. She trusted him enough to share his bed, the thought struck his heart, and his hand moved with more vigor along his entire length, pressing his teeth into his bicep in the heat of passion. Her full lips meeting his, tongue in his mouth, she kissed him so perfectly, so feverishly, he could kiss her for fucking ever. So close… so close, he felt it building, he ached for it, ached for her touch, her thighs against his hips as he pounded her, made her scream, moan, call out for him as the sound of flesh against flesh echoed around them.

“Yes, Zevran.” She whispered, fingers moving faster, so wet, imagining the muscular V beneath his quivering abdominal muscles, fist firm around his manhood, hips working gently. She imagined her own fist around him, squeezing tight around a cock throbbing with unspent desire, she would take him into her mouth, drag her tongue along the underside of him, just to see those hips move, hard body quaking with desire and the need to _come. “Fuck… Zevran,“_ she whimpered, so close… so close. The unmistakable muffled groan she heard made the imagining too rich, too real, and she fisted the bed sheets, writhed with the intensity of her orgasm, letting it shudder through her body as she heard another gasp echo from her bathroom. She was gasping with him.

 _So hot, so beautiful, my muse, my heart…_ he tried to withhold the sounds, but he couldn’t help it. It had been too long, too much buildup, it wracked his body. Muscles tensing and hips thrusting gently to meet his fist, holding himself up against the wall, he _spilled,_ cock expanding against his own palm, and he bit down a little harder on his bicep. A vision of her dark eyes looking up at him with her lips around his cock to catch his spend. His heart beat hard as relief washed through him, and his breath came in short gasps.

His body hummed with pleasure and relaxation as he completed his shower, grateful for release after so much torment, excited to see her in just a few short minutes. Ever since he met her, his life had become her. Sketching her, thinking of her, thinking of her dancing, listening to her songs, imagining what she was like, curiosity ever-building, and the desire to know every inch of her. So much feeling. He adored her, and he wanted to adore her more, watch her unfold, laugh, go to pieces, come undone in his arms. _Fuck, Zevran is done for, and it is delicious._

He ran her comb through his wet hair, putting on only his tee shirt and boxers, foregoing pants. She told him to be comfortable… and Zevran was always most comfortable in little to no clothing.

“Hey.” He spoke gently as he walked into her room, seeing her private space for the first time. She gazed up at him from her bed and reached toward him with an elegant stretch of her arms. With a soft smile, he crawled across a queen sized mattress with black bed covers in the center of an otherwise empty room. They melted into each other, arms wrapping around each other, he moaned with the comfort and sweetness of it. “Awesome cuddling, Nyla.”

Both spent of such burning passion, they kissed sweetly, nuzzling, sighing, shifting, indulging in sweet touches.

“There’s a bite mark on your arm.” Nyla ran a hand over it.

Zevran hid his face in the pillow and groaned, laughed, and spoke a muffled “Stop noticing everything, Nyla!”

“I didn’t do that, did I? I don’t remember biting you.” Her face heated. “I was pretty… entranced, I wouldn’t put it past myself… but I’m not usually a biter. Shit.”

Zevran looked at her blushing face and felt sorry for her. “Calm down, Nyla, you did not bite me.” He cackled and smooshed his face back into the pillow. “Stop noticing everything, Nyla!”

“So… you bit yourself?” She sighed and wrapped herself around him more tightly and kissed his arms. “Why are you hiding, Zevran?” Nyla brushed his wet hair with her fingers. It’s not like what he did in her shower was a mystery. It’s not like she would ever find it wrong. People have needs; needs should be met. It was very simple and in this case, happened to be very hot.

“I pleasured myself in your shower. I bite. I had to bite something. Nosy, Nyla!” He wasn’t exactly feeling embarrassed in that moment, maybe shy. It was fun to share his secrets, thrilling, and he smiled a closed, tight lipped smile as he watched her bite her lip. _Beat that,_ he thought, waiting for a reaction.

“I know. I’m pretty sure I was matching you stroke for stroke.” She bit her lip again, pink cheeked and her eyes flicked from his eyes, to his smile, back to his eyes. “Telltale groans, breathy whimpers, oh I heard you. My only regret is that I didn’t hear more.”

“Wicked!” Zevran tickled her sides for a moment and watched her recoil violently away from him, just to come back and press her body snugly against his. “I am simply not creative enough to out-share your unfiltered mind.”

“You’re learning, and I love it,” she purred. “Spend the night? Queen sized bed, maximum occupancy… Cat.”

“Yes.” He smiled, “Your stomach is making sounds. Let us order chinese food, or pizza… maybe watch a movie?”

“That sounds lovely and relaxing, Zevran. I wonder if there’s a place that delivers tacos,” she mused, as Cat climbed on top of Zevran and rumbled loudly, draping himself over his hip.

“Cat is always climbing me, Nyla. It makes me want to be still so not to disturb him. I must ask,” his eyes surveyed the room briefly, “where are all of your _things?_ ”

“I have everything I need.” She shrugged. “I don’t need more things.”

“Is that…” He lifted his head, chuckling, looking on the opposite side of the mattress. “Nyla’s vibe?”

“Oh my god… don’t look at my vibrator!” She tried to wrestle away from him, to hide it, but he held fast to her. She laughed and gave up, curled into him to hide her face against his chest in her embarrassment. “God _dammit!_ I didn’t think to put it away!”

“It’s okay, Nyla. Leave it plugged in to charge. Lucky vibrator. Going where no Zevran has gone before.”

“Stop talking about my vibrator.” She spoke, muffled by his shirt.

Zevran and Nyla selfie! Find the artist on tumblr @amaryllislavellan. She's brilliant! I highly recommend her for commissioning.


	7. Chapter 7

“No, you don’t get to just slink through and hide in your room.” Leliana placed a cup of tea on the table for Zevran the moment he walked in. “So you spent the night with her two nights in a row! That’s too cute, sit.”

“It wasn’t planned, it just worked out that way.” Zevran sat and sighed. It was good to be home. It would be good to have a moment to himself so he could draw.

“Adorable.” Anders shook his head and sipped his tea. “Did you get chinese food or pizza? What movie did you watch?”

“We watched an anime she likes called Sword Art Online, it was cool. And we had Chinese because we couldn’t find anyone that delivers tacos. Nyla and her tacos. It seems to be all she ever wants.”

“A woman after your own heart.” Leliana chuckled. “Tell us everything.”

“We had tacos for breakfast-”

“Your favorite.” Anders interjected.

“Yes, but sometimes I want to eat other things. She, however, does not. Afterward, we went to her place and the woman owns _nothing._ It’s a nice place, with high ceilings and nice lighting, I do not know how a waitress could afford such a thing. And it is _empty._ No art on her walls, no furniture. She has an oversized beanbag chair to fit three, and a bed. That’s it. It’s kind of depressing.”

“But she has a maine coon. Maine coons are family oriented. Very loyal. Great therapy cats. And _so_ fluffy.” Anders sighed happily. “What a good choice. I want one.”

“I’m _allergic._ I’m _sorry.”_ Leliana sighed, shaking her head. “I would _love_ for you to-”

“No no… it’s okay... I wasn’t saying… I’m totally fine not owning a cat, we already discussed this.”

Zevran smiled. “Cat likes me a lot, always following me around, always sitting on me.”

“Yes, this is very good.” Leliana nodded.  
  
“Very good.” Anders agreed enthusiastically.

“There was a lot of talking. Cuddling. We dance well together. She can salsa exquisitely.”  
  
“Ohhhh my god they salsa danced together!” Leliana laughed, looking at Anders.

“Yes, I _told_ you!” Anders cackled and held out his hand. Leliana pulled a five dollar bill out her bra and handed it to him.

Zevran chuckled. “You’re both insane. Zevran has insane roommates.”

“Where is she now?” Anders ignored the comment, because it rang true to him.

“Working a double shift. She works hard.”

“Send her flowers with a card that says you had a wonderful time. Only say it the way you would say it. Make it romantic. She’s definitely a romantic. Don’t you think, Anders?”

“Oh yes. Waiting on love for sex. Definitely a romantic.” Anders nodded and Leliana opened her phone to look up flower delivery. “Oh shit, is she a virgin?”

“No, she was engaged at one point. He passed two years ago.”

Anders gasped, and covered his mouth.

“That’s so sad.” Leliana looked up at him and her eyes went wide and teary.

“I shouldn’t tell you her business.”

“We won’t tell her we know.” Anders promised.  
  
Zevran sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not asking for you to lie to her.”

“Awww!” Anders shook his head. “So sweet.”

“We just won’t bring it up then.” Leliana added. “Okay now, make sure there’s distance for a few days, so you can just have space after two full days together. It will be good for you. Also, text her maybe tomorrow or something. You can just ask how she’s doing, let her know you’re thinking of her.”

“That is helpful. I was wondering about this. I always think of things I wish to say and don’t text her because I do not want to overwhelm her.” Zevran leaned on his palm thoughtfully. “This reminds me… I got a text from a fuck buddy while I was at Nyla’s house. I told fuck buddy I was seeing someone, and she laughed at me, said ‘good luck to her.’ It was… painful. I cannot fathom why she would say something so harsh.”

“Because you’re known as the guy that fucks and doesn’t date. People have an expectation that you can’t do much else, I imagine.” Anders shrugged.

“But do I seem like someone who has no restraint? I have never been offered romance before. Why would one assume that anyone I romance is in danger?”

Anders squeezed his arm reassuringly, “They don’t know you. We know better.”

“Do you, though? Leli advised me not to bang anyone during this time in my wooing Nyla. As if I couldn’t help myself. As if I would try to woo someone at all, if my eyes would keep wandering.”

“Awww damnit, that’s adorable.” Anders sighed.

Leliana looked at him with wide eyes, “Oh, no! I swear it wasn’t personal! That’s actually a common grey area. Some people say, ‘I’ll sneak in one final fling before we declare this a bonafide relationship’ when it damn well is. It’s just not yet spoken.” Leliana fumed. “It ruins relationships when you _think_ ‘oh this is going so great, she might be the one.’ Then you find out she was hooking up with her horrid bitch ex girlfriend… Look, I just wanted to protect you both from something so avoidable.”

“Romantic Leli got hurt by this once.” Zevran gave her a sympathetic smile, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. At least I found out before I married the bitch.” Leliana placed her phone down on the table with a loud thunk, “I texted you a link for flower delivery.”

“You know what, Leli? I could go for a latte, let's go for a walk so Zevran can go draw his Sketchbook Girl.”

 

*******

 

“Can I help you with something?” Nyla asked the man with a bouquet of colorful wildflowers in a tall, narrow, cylindrical, glass vase.

“Flowers for Nyla?” The man spoke nervously. “There’s no last name.”

“I’m the only Nyla here, and possibly in the entire city.” She sighed, and her face felt hot. _Zevran doesn’t know my last name._

“Oh good. That was easy.” He chuckled, “Have a good one!”

Nyla stood there for a moment staring after him, trying to process what the fuck just happened. Of course she knew who they were from but… it was too sweet. Way too sweet. Nyla loved flowers; they were beautiful, smelled so sweet and fresh, so much color, big orange tiger lilies, little white daisies, sprays of lavender-

“How romantic.” Cassandra sighed dreamily. “What does the card say?”

“It says mind your own business.” Nyla opened it.

_I had a wonderful time with you, my Waitress. Actual salsa music, next time?_

Nyla smiled and rolled her eyes, slipping the note in her pocket. “Too god damn sweet, Cass.”

“Is that from the blonde that warranted a public tit adjust?”

“Oh my god… _must_ you bring that up all the time?”

“It is, isn’t it? Are you dating now? Flowers. You’re dating him aren’t you?” Cassandra was far too excited.

“I suppose. I mean, have you _seen_ him? He could be dating... everybody. Jesus, the man is too hot.”

“Nyla…” Cassandra rolled her eyes, “He sent you an eighty dollar bouquet. You should take him seriously. He’s making a statement.”

“I don’t know. I mean, look at him. I don’t want to have to compete for his attention.” Running her hand over her hair she started to feel frustrated. “Look. _He’s. Too. Hot, Cassandra.”_ She sighed, beginning to feel warm all over just thinking about his shirtless form. “I mean... God _dammit.”_

“Think about this. I think he is an attractive man, definitely, but, he’s not as hot as you say.”

“Oh bullshit.” Nyla looked at her as if she were insane. “He is the very definition of sexy. Hot. Handsome… the whole _spectrum_ of words I could think of to describe an attractive person.”

“Yes, calm down before you flood the place.” Cassandra chuckled and sighed, “The point I am making here, is the possibility that you are exceptionally attracted to him. You’re freaking yourself out.”

“You think so? That kind of makes sense.” Heart fluttering in her chest, she began to replay last night in her head. Dancing, masturbating, cuddling... _duh, Nyla. It has to be mutual._ “You are rotten and wonderful, Cass.” Nyla smiled, put the flowers on an unoccupied table. The bell had rung, her orders were ready. “A horrible, amazing, _bitch.”_

 

*******

 

Zevran changed into warm sweatpants and a sweatshirt. When he sat down to draw, he was so overwhelmed with visions he couldn’t even begin. Nyla had gone from muse, to turbo-muse, and he could not _even._

So he started from the beginning.

The look on her face when she walked into his tattoo parlor, surprised, a warm smile. Tank top, that skirt, long long legs. A little handbag hanging over her elbow, little black book of love and desire tucked under her arm. Black tennis shoes, white ankle socks. She looked _happy_ to see him, and he wondered if he had been stuck in her thoughts as much as she had been stuck in his. _One could dream._ He smiled at the thought, imagining her with her little black book of love and desire. Perhaps she found herself inspired as well? _One could dream._

He loved this drawing of her, it may be his new favorite, and he wrote on it in his fanciest cursive, a reminder of how it felt to draw her in that moment; hopeful that she could be as crazy about him as he was about her. _One could dream._

The way she blushed pink in his tattoo chair after kissing him. The look of complete and utter dismay over what she had done, and she laughed with him. _It was such a good kiss,_ he thought, brushing his fingers along his lips briefly in remembrance of it. She was so nervous, so damned _cute_ , her arms folded across her chest, pressing her ample bosom together. Zevran was glad to see her without her makeup, preferred her without it. Something about it struck him, seeing her so… bare, and relaxed. He stared at the picture for a long time before writing on it; _It was such a good kiss._

Zevran thought of the moment he saw a flash of dark blue panties, and wasn’t quite feeling it. The moment was cute and sexy, but it paled in comparison to so many other beautiful moments that needed to be drawn. So many. Too many. He plugged in his iphone and turned on her Sanctuary song. This song moved him, it calmed him, it spoke to him, and he drew her with a mouth full of egg and bacon taco. Mouth closed and cheeks full, smiling slyly after she slid down her chair; a game of chicken that he lost. He chuckled, reliving the moment. _She would have stopped…_ he smiled as he drew that lock of bothersome hair that kept inhibiting his view of her right eye. What was it she said? He scrawled in fine print next to her, _I would rather have a happy and sexually charged breakfast with you, if you don’t mind._ It was, and he didn’t mind at all.

That look in her eye as she shimmied her shoulders as they danced. Head held high, elegant, radiant, happy, in her element. She loves dancing. Elegant arms, shoulders, bosom. _So. Much. Bosom._ She smiled wide, when she was only moments before near tears. Zevran loved that he could bring her happiness so effectively, so quickly. She was so… available and willing… _She loves dancing._

Oh, _that_ moment. The moment after he exited her bathroom, smelling of her soap and sated after pleasuring himself to visions of her. The way her arms reached toward him, her cheeks flushed from her own exertions… His Nyla, pleasuring herself to the subtle sounds of Zevran pleasuring himself. Post-coital cuddling without the coitus. He smiled at the memory of sinking down with her in this bliss. Limbs tangling and lips needy and sweet. He loved the way she beckoned him, so sweet, so welcoming, so warm in her arms. _Mi amore…_ he scrawled across the top of the page, and he dropped his book. He should erase that. Fuck, he should unwrite that… _fuck… I wasn’t thinking… I just wrote the first thing that came to mind… fuck that’s worse… fuck!_  

 Zevran's phone made a sound.

 

_Zevran?_

 

Oh shit it was her. She texted him, his heart leaped, “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

 

_Nyla?_

 

_Cousland. Thank you for the flowers. I love flowers. They’re beautiful._

 

_Not as beautiful as you, Nyla Cousland._

 

_I am reading that in your voice, and I’m getting aroused._

 

_A theme with us, no?_

 

_Yes, tease._

 

_I’m the tease, now? Prancing around in tiny outfits with long legs to heaven._

 

_I wouldn’t put it past you._

 

_Nyla! Good call. Dinner Friday?_

 

_Friday is perfect._

 

_Dress nice?_

 

_How nice?_

 

_Fancy nice._

 

 _Oh god._  
_Okay._ _  
I can do that._

 

_Nyla. :)_

 

_Zevran :)_

_Goodnight_

  
Nyla smiled and felt relaxed after just a little bit of contact with him. It was soothing, and she crawled into bed happily with her sore feet and calves after her double shift. Though, her bed still had an empty feeling that pissed her off and made her toss and turn.

_Dammit he was here for ONE NIGHT and he’s ruined my bed. I need a couch now so he can sit somewhere comfortably. I need a damn table to put my flowers on. This guy, is causing me furniture. I need new shoes. He’s causing me shoes, too. UGH!_

She drifted off to sleep, imagining what to wear on Friday; her dreams were fantastic.  

 

_“Mmm. Hey,” she whispered, her back pressed snug against his chest, his arm beneath her neck._

_“Hey.” Zevran whispered back, pressing gentle kisses on her shoulder, along her neck, nibbling her ear. “Te quiero, Nyla.”_

_Nyla smiled with an appreciative moan, his hand wandering along her arm, his breath on her ear, erection pressed against her ass. “Oh my god,” she sighed._

_“Eres mía,” he purred, his hand dragging roughly along her thigh, stopping at her knee to draw a lazy line up her inner thigh with his fingertips. “Quiero saborearte.”_

_“Fuck…” Nyla’s hips moved of their own accord as his hand stopped short of touching her heat. With a breathy whisper, she encouraged him, “I want you to touch me.”_

_“Si el agua fuera belleza tú serías el mar entero.” Zevran held her close, kissed all over her neck and shoulder as he teased her, touching her softly everywhere but where she craved his touch most._

_“Tease…” Nyla sighed. Her back arched and she reached back with an arm to feel the smooth skin of his thigh beneath her palm. Her breath caught in her throat when his fingers trailed down her abdomen, fingers barely brushing her folds. Her belly fluttered-_

“Oh my god.” Nyla woke, panting, trembling from the orgasm that snuck up on her. “Oh my shit. I don’t even speak Spanish.”

* * *

 

Aesthetic made by me.


	8. Chapter 8

Monday came and went, Nyla worked the evening shift, and offered to work breakfast and lunch on Tuesday because they were short-staffed. She was feeling overworked, tired, and lonely. Friday couldn’t come soon enough. In the middle of her day, she felt happy thinking of him; particularly his laughter and the way his canines flashed when he aimed a flirty grin at her. Halfway through her lunch shift, she broke down. _Why the fuck not? Couldn’t hurt to ask, probably._

 

_Zevran?_

_Nyla?_ _  
_ _Nice timing, I’m on break._

 

Nyla sighed nervously, wondering if she would seem too needy, too clingy; then again, fuck it _._

 

_Tacos with me tonight?_

 

_Nyla! Yes! Though, I don’t know when I am through here. I can’t guess the timing. Text you after?_

 

_Yes!_

 

_Nyla :)_

 

_Zevran :)_

 

Nyla :)

  
My break is over!  
_Zevran :)_  
  
  
  
Nyla :)

 

“You’re giggling at your phone.” Cassandra teased her.

“Oh my god, quit.” She blushed brightly, looked at the table for something to throw, and it was barren. “I was having a _moment!”_

 

*******

 

Zevran was glad to hear from her. Two nights drawing, and he was going through _withdrawals._ He didn’t want to nag her for her time, didn’t want to extend another invitation when he had already extended one… but he had to admit, he missed her; It was pathetic, sweet, and wonderful and he enjoyed having someone to miss.

It was 9pm before Zevran was done. He felt bad, Nyla didn't answer when he texted her, and he didn't care what it meant. Come hell or high water, he was giving his Waitress her tacos. He ran and bought a variety… far too many. He didn’t care, as long as what she wanted was in the bag. It was about time he bought her a taco dinner. He walked past a drug store and bought a single red rose. _My Waitress likes flowers._

He knocked on her door, and chuckled at the startled shriek from the other side.

_“OH JESUS CHRIST. OH FUCK… Ohh sorry, Baby!”_

The door swung open and Zevran was stifling laughter and holding out a rose. She was too fucking cute in her big tee shirt and yoga pants.

“Oh… Zevran.” She smiled and met his eyes. _Golden eyes and yellow hair, tawny skin, oh shit I can't…_ Nyla melted, and melted, and melted… “Hey.”

“Nyla.”  He smirked and bit his lip, loving the dreamy way she was staring at him. “I brought tacos, shall we eat at the doorway or may I come in?” She was floored, and it was exactly what he had wanted. He followed her in, closing and bolting the door behind himself. She walked backward, chattering nervously.

“You caught me off guard. I worked another double and I accidentally dozed off I didn’t know you were coming and I stepped on the cat I’m still kind of half asleep-” Zevran put the tacos on the counter. Slipping  the rose in the vase of wildflowers, he simply enjoyed her with a smile while pulling off his jacket. “I figured you had a late night at the uh… tattoo place-”

“Parlor.”

“Tattoo parlor, so I put on a movie and I guess I just got too sleepy jesus why am I talking so mu-”

He grabbed her, so cute with her hair mussed from her nap, and kissed her deeply. “Get a grip, Nyla.” He held her and rubbed her nose with his. So happy to see her, hear her, kiss her, hold her…

“If you want me to get a grip so badly, why are you kissing me like that?” She spoke with a giggle, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck.

“Mmm.” He began walking her backwards. “That is a valid point.”

“Welcome home.” She wasn’t sure why she said that, or how weird it sounded, and followed up with nervous chatter. “Here. To my home. Where I stepped on my cat and I really feel sad about it. Where are we going?”  

“To our favorite chair, where my Waitress will relax and allow me to serve her tacos.”

“Oh. You’re too damn sweet. Let me help a little.” She pulled away from him and went toward the cupboards and pulled out a couple of paper plates.

“Nyla’s cupboards are empty?”

“I never have to wash a dish.” She smiled, handing them over to him.

“Is there food in them?”

“Mmhm… I have a box of clif bars, some orange juice and water in the fridge.”

“Nyla.” It was as if she hadn't built a home. As if she didn't live there, it felt _wrong_ but she seemed so okay with it; it was confusing.

“Water or orange juice?” She smiled.

“Insanity, Nyla. Orange juice with tacos?” He pinched her sides, making her jump way too far away with a squeak.

“Damnit, Zevran.” She chuckled, took two bottles of water from the fridge, and they sat together. Both draped and curled comfortably on the bean bag chair.

“I did not know what you prefer so…” He pulled several foil wrapped delicacies out of the bag and into a pile. He sighed, disappointed with a chuckle, “They are not labeled, so you must bite all of them.”

“Fifteen  tacos won’t go to waste.” She smiled. “A taco is a taco, and my body is ready.”

“You worked a double? How was it?” They both took a taco at random and unwrapped.

“Too much. My calves and feet are killing me. They needed the help, though. I'm going in tomorrow at two, sadly.”

“Nyla you should rest! They will work you to death if you let them.” He noticed her making a face after she bit into her taco. “Not good? Trade me.”

“Thank you. Jesus Christ I have never had a gross taco before. I am… disillusioned.”

“Ahh my Waitress does not like al pastor. But I do.”

“Mm. Chicken is much better. Green peppers. Leave it to me to grab the worst taco right away.”

Zevran chuckled with his mouth full, “Do not fret, Nyla, I will always be there for you if you grab the wrong taco.”

They stared at each other, mouths full, sharing closed mouth smiles and a beautiful moment; that moment when you notice the truth of things, how big they are, and then you try to push it away because ‘how can this be?’ ‘I love you’ is reduced to ‘I'm enjoying you’, just for the sake of propriety and imagining it to be a rational adult choice.

Zevran needed to draw her, Nyla's heart was ready to pour poetry. They went for seconds.

“How was work for you today?” Nyla offered him a bite of a taco that may have been pork or chicken, but it was good; he took it and reciprocated.

“I enjoy my work very much. It can be a little too sedentary, at times. Someone had to cancel, which almost never happens, and I did yoga in the back office.”

“You do yoga?” She was somehow not surprised. “I used to do that.”

“I like it. It feels good, and makes me very bendy.” He winked at her, and chuckled as she dropped her taco. “Nyla. Why did you stop yoga?”

“I used to be very active, until I got injured. I stopped doing most things. I did try, but I was so inactive for so long... it’s really hard to get back into it.”

“How long?”

“Maybe about… six or seven or eight months or something. The healing happened quickly enough, but I needed physiotherapy to prevent the scar tissue from inhibiting my movement. So several months of things like light range of motion exercises and such.”

“Mmm. That doesn’t sound too unpleasant.”

“It was painful at times, but that’s okay.” Nyla shrugged. “There was a time I was afraid I would never dance again, and that was motivating. Have you had your fill? I’d like to bag these and stretch out my legs.”

“Let me.”  Zevran cleaned up from dinner, and when he came back to her,  she was curled up, blinking rapidly, and her eyes were red-rimmed and sleepy. He felt soft for her, and wanted to give her something. Sitting next to her, he handed her the xBox controller. “Rest your legs across my lap this way.” He motioned, and she moved. “Closer. Perfect. Choose a movie for us. Or we can watch your cartoons, I do not mind.”

“This feels very good, Zevran. I’m sorry I’m not better company.” Nyla sighed and restarted the  movie she was watching earlier, so he could see the beginning. She sat up so she could see him, leaning on the chair on her side, her body sinking comfortably into the contours of it.

“You are perfect company, Nyla.” He rubbed his hands together to warm them, and pressed his palms and thumbs into the contours of her calves in a firm massage. She was muscular, defined, not so out of shape as she imagined; she just needed encouragement. He smiled at her soft groan as her eyes stared sleepily at the television. She yawned.

“You’re too sweet. Zev? When we’re apart, I forget how sweet you are, how sweet it is to be with you. My imagination tells me that I read things wrong… but then you return, and I wonder how it ever occurred to me that cuddling up together after mutually masturbating is a gesture that can be misconstrued as anything other than a product of… I’m sorry I’m dozing off and my mouth is running.”

“I am enjoying you.” He worked his way to her feet. “Elevating your feet after work will help blood flow away from them. They won’t feel so sore and bruised in the morning.”

“I will do that. That feels so good… thank you. Thanks for coming over. Thanks for the tacos.” Her eyes closed and she may have fallen asleep again, she popped awake. “And thank you for the rose. I was too excited to receive it like a lady.”

“Nyla.” Zevran chuckled. “Let yourself sleep, it took you ten minutes to finish that sentence.”

“That’s funny.” She chuckled and snorted. “You’re funny.” She let her eyes flutter closed.

Zevran stopped massaging her, hoping she might stay in the sleep she desperately needed.

“And... I god damn _missed_ you.” She popped awake and muttered sleepily. “Shit. My bed sucks now. I had this dream that you were spooning me, whispering Spanish stuff to me, and I don’t even _know_ Spanish. I mean, what the hell did you even say? Then I woke up from an orgasm.”

“Sleep before you tell me the few secrets you have left.” He chuckled silently and whispered. “I missed you too, Nyla.”

Stretching his arm out and resting it along the bean bag chair, his hand was close enough to toy with her hair, she sighed happily and leaned subtly into his touch. He wished he had his sketchbook. She looked so peaceful, her lips set in a soft smile, breath evening out, her arms curled, resting snugly against her chest. He loved petting her, letting silky soft strands of hair slip between his fingers and fall away, so he can do it over and over. _Too beautiful, Nyla._

He felt his own sleepiness as he stared at her. There was something so romantic about getting to watch her sleep. He had never given a shit about someone sleeping before, and somehow, now it was the most precious thing he could get to witness. _Too beautiful, Nyla._ A small black blanket caught his eye. Cat was on it, deep in sleep. He reached as far as he could without disturbing Nyla and pulled it to them.

“Sorry.” He whispered to the chirping cat. “Nyla needs this.” He dragged it over her, tucked it around her gently and sat back to indulge in petting her hair once more. It took too much effort to stifle his laughter when he saw the print on her blanket, ‘Booty ’n Tacos’ written in rainbow print down the length of it. It was too much. It was so her, and he wanted to ask her about it. _Nyla is so cool. So fun._ He smiled and watched her sleep while petting such soft, dark hair. The lights from the silently playing movie flickering over her features, long eyelashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

“Zev?” Nyla was leaning against him, her face inches from his. “Come lay down in my bed with me.”

He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep, and he stood with her.

“You don’t have to sleep in your jeans, gentleman.” She spoke sleepily, crawling across the bed. She watched him in the streetlights through her window pull off his pants. He was down to his boxer briefs, and Nyla was too exhausted to make a joke about him stripping for her; the turn on, though, was undeniable. He flopped down next to her with a contented sigh. It felt so right.

“Nyla’s bed isn’t so bad.” He whispered sleepily as she curled onto his chest as if she belonged there. “Awesome cuddling, Nyla.”

 

*******

 

Nyla woke, it was still dark. She sat up and looked around. Something had to have woken her. Cat climbed off of Zevran; the blanket thief was curled on his side, facing her. Sitting there for a few minutes in the silence, she was about to lay down again when she heard him speaking softly in Spanish. Speaking became more desperate, and he stopped. She waited, wondering if she should wake him.

Abruptly, he tossed the blanket off of himself with a groan, kicking it away and shifting to lay on his back. _Okay he’s having a bad dream._

 _“Lo siento. Lo siento.”_ he whispered, scrubbing his face with his palms.

“Zevran?” she caressed his arm.

 _“Rinna!”_ He sat up and backed away. Backing away, off of the mattress and onto the floor. Backing away until he was against the wall. Breathing heavily, he kept touching his face, alternating between his right and left hands.

“Zevran… sweetheart, wake up. It’s okay.” She scrambled after him. “It’s okay.” She kneeled in front of him, resting her hand on his arm softly. “Wake up, love. It’s okay.”

He began speaking desperately in Spanish again. Nyla’s spanish was always terrible, and she could pick up only a few words. They were making her want to cry’ ‘I’m sorry’ he kept saying, ‘my love’ _,_ and ‘Rinna’ _._

 _A woman’s name? Maybe he lost someone he loved? To what? When? Or is this all just a bad dream?_  Nyla realised her sweet man was in the midst of a night terror. She stopped touching him, and sat silently with him as he panicked  and swiped at his face with alternating hands for several minutes. He made to stand, and she pressed on his shoulders, holding him down. He struggled briefly before giving up. In trying to back away again, his head hit the wall with force; it seemed to snap him out of it.

Things were quiet for a minute, the sounds of Zevran’s heavy, trembling breaths echoed around them. Nyla nudged a little closer to him, and waited until he shifted, sighing as if waking from sleep.

“Zevran?” She spoke quietly.

“Rinna?” He squinted at her, confused and disoriented.

“Come back to bed.” _Okay so Rinna is real._ She felt tender and sad for him. She took his hand and they stood together. Nyla spoke soothing words as he stumbled. “Everything is fine, darling. We are safe.”

She laid down, and guided him, pulling him against herself, resting his head on her heart. He curled against her with a sigh, his arm reaching around her waist with a soft groan, a subtle whimper. He was trembling, sweaty, and his heart was still beating hard. Nyla pulled the blankets over them, stroked his hair, brushing it with her fingertips, she kissed his damp forehead, soothing touches on his back and arms.

“Back of my head hurts. Did I do something?” He whispered, clinging to her, embarrassed, confused, not sure what happened but sure it wasn’t good.

“Everything is fine, Zevran. Let yourself sleep.” She held him firmly. “We are safe. Nothing bad happened.”

“Thank you, Nyla.” He pressed his head firmly against her, hearing the soothing sounds of her heart. The gentle intake of her breathing, soothing touches that became more soothing and sweet as he noticed her avoiding the back of his head. They slept soundly.

 

*******

Nyla woke early, surprisingly feeling relaxed and rested. Zevran was still wrapped around her, sleeping peacefully and deeply. She laid still for a long time, just enjoying the feel of having him in her arms, the scent of him. So sweet; she missed waking up cuddling, it was one of her favorite things.

Sneaking away from him wasn’t difficult. He was out cold, and she stroked his hair and kissed him several times before pulling away. _So beautiful when he is at rest. Or… all the time. Fuck._ She reached for her book; she had accidentally started calling it her ‘little black book of love and desire’ hearing Zevran refer to it that way so often. It made her smile. She wanted to write, and wanted coffee and didn’t want him to wake up to an empty house. Suddenly, she needed a coffee maker. _God dammit now he’s causing me kitchen appliances. Fuck it._

Nyla pulled her hair up, put on her tennis shoes, and jogged down the street, ordered breakfast tacos and two black coffees, and walked briskly back. Thirty minutes gone, and when she poked her head in her room breathlessly, he was still deep in sleep, Cat curled up on him; it made her… feel things.

Sweaty and uncomfortable from hurrying, she took a quick shower, and sneaked into her room in a towel, tiptoeing to her closet, grabbing a clean pair of yoga pants, and a more flattering tee shirt. _Poor thing must be so exhausted after last night._ She slipped on her clothes, and kneeled by him, kissed him and went to the kitchen for her coffee. She heard a buzz coming from Zevran’s jacket. _Oh shit… does he need to be at work?_ She reached in his jacket and pulled out his phone. The message was from Leliana.

 

_Are you okay? Will you get back to me when you get this, please?_

 

Nyla swiped his phone open to reply. So sweet, how his roommates cared about him so deeply. When she opened his phone, her heart sank hard and sped up. Leliana’s text didn’t open, something else did.

_  
Hey you want to come over? Bored, horny._

_No, thank you for the invitation. I am seeing someone now, though. I am unavailable for the foreseeable future._

_Oh! Good for you! What is he/she like?_

_Perfection._

_LOL fair enough._

  
Nyla felt a twinge of guilt for reading his messages, and sat down on the kitchen floor. She couldn’t help it. All she saw were the words ‘come over’ and ‘horny’ and her heart snapped in two. Then she got exactly the opposite of what she was expecting. She wanted to cry and and her hands were shaking. _Perfection?_ She nearly cried. _Oh yeah, Leliana’s text._

Nyla scrolled through his list of texts. A whole slew of texts from men and women… she couldn’t stand herself as she went through them from the top. Denials. He said no to them. Seven other people he denied… including _men!_ She had no idea he was bisexual! _God fucking dammit I have to tell him I went through his phone I can’t keep this a secret._ The part that hit hardest was the date of his first refusal. It was the night she met him at the tattoo parlor, _while_ they were together. It was before their first kiss! _Ohhh my god…_ Her heart could explode. Could this be true? Could she have really obtained the unobtainable hotness? _Or was he talking about someone else?_

“God dammit, Nyla, you paranoid freak.” She whispered with a sigh. “Text her from your own fucking phone.”

She sighed again and closed his phone. Nyla felt touched and she was hurting over sneaking through his stuff… but it was as if she couldn’t help it. And she knew she would tell him the whole story; it was the right thing to do. She relaxed, and trusted him to forgive her. She got her own phone out.

 

_Leliana?_   
_Leliana?_   
_Hey are you around?_   
_Will you let me know when you are around?_

_Oh shit, you too?_

_  
I’m sorry?_

_  
Never mind, have you seen Zevran? Is he ok?_

_  
Yes, he’s fine._

_  
Why isn’t the intstant-responder responding to my texts? We were worried!_

_  
He’s fine. He came over last night and we had dinner, he’s still sleeping. He’s sleeping a long time. Rough night._

_  
Oh no! Why???_

_  
Does he often have night terrors?_

_  
Not often, maybe once or twice a year. I’m sorry, are you both alright?_

_  
Yes… I was just curious. I didn’t really message you to probe for personal details… I heard you texting his phone and I didn’t want you to worry unnecessarily. I like the way you and Anders look out for him._

_  
Of course. We have been roommates for 6 years. We all have busy lives, we have a system if we haven’t crossed paths in a few days we check in._

_  
That’s really nice. I like that._

_  
I have to get back to work, anything else for now?_

_  
Nope that was it. Talk to you later :)_

_  
Later. Thanks for checking in. :)_

 

Nyla checked the time. 10am. Four hours until work. She needed to call in. Poor Zevran. Waking wouldn’t be easy, she almost hoped he wouldn’t remember last night. Today, if he was available, she wanted to be with him. Just relaxing, talking, kissing, whatever. She poked her head in her bedroom door. He was still sleeping deeply, he hadn’t moved. She closed her bedroom door, put on music and left the volume down very low. She got out her journal, and sat on her beanbag chair with her coffee, lit a cigarette.

She wanted to untangle the jumble of what was happening. Writing helped. It seemed to put enough distance between herself and her feelings so she could make sense of them, thereby making her feel closer to herself.

 _Zevran is in my bed, he brought me a single rose, and too many tacos._  
_He massaged my sore limbs, and I drifted off to sleep hearing the words “I missed you too, Nyla.”_  
_He had a nightmare._  
_He let me hold him; it felt like so much trust._  
_Then I went through his phone, that was too much._  
_Inappropriate, but I feel more secure, more trust for him._  
_I feel chosen, and he chose me far sooner than was rational._  
_But I cheated to have this feeling._  
_Unfair, Nyla. You cheated at the game._

  
She sat back, deep in thought, sipping on her coffee and feeling drunk on love, desire, remorse, guilt and confusion.

“Shit, what time is it?” She  whispered, snapping her book shut and scrambling for her phone. 11:30. What a way to blow an hour and a half; she meant to call in sooner. She threw her book across the floor. “Dammit I hate everything I wrote.”

Zevran woke alone in her bed, his hands reaching for her before he knew she was gone. He sat up. Cat was on his legs, blanket snug around  him, vibrator plugged into her wall. Bare walls perturbed him and he could hear her in the livingroom.

“Hi, Cass. I need to be off today. I’m fine, I just need a personal day.” There was a long pause. “I’m sorry that you’re understaffed, Cassandra, you’re going to have to hire more people.” Another long pause. “Put the goddamn help wanted sign in the window, it worked on me. Okay. Thanks, Cass. Yes I will be there tomorrow. Bye. What? Yes, the blondie. Oh my god. I said bye.” Nyla laughed hard. “Okay, you’re a horrible bitch. Thank you again. Okay. I love you bye.”

She hopped up and stretched, her shoulders and neck popped, it was satisfying. She went to her room, poked her head in the door again, and their eyes met. He was petting Cat.

“Hey.” She smiled and sat next to him, taking his hand.

“Nyla.” He smiled. “You called off of work? I woke up to hear you on the phone.”

“I did. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, I think. It feels… different with you. Is something on your mind, Nyla?”

“Yes, I have secrets.” She reached a hand toward him, rested it on his cheek, feeling for anything weird, looking closely at his perfect, unblemished skin. _Why was he scrubbing his face?_ She caressed to the back of his head, feeling for a lump.

“Oh.” He looked at her, wide eyed. “Ow, Nyla, what the fuck?”

“Ooh ooh ooh... “ She pulled away and cringed, flapping her hands a little after feeling a small bump on his head “I’m sorry, I was checking-”

“Oh. Oh shit.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. _Come back to bed. Everything is fine, darling. We are safe._ “Crap. I’m sorry, Nyla. I… I do not know what to say about this.”

“No! No no… it’s alright. It really is. Nothing huge happened, you backed up against the wall and hit your head, that’s all.”

“It hasn’t happened in so long, I forgot it was a thing. This is fucking mortifying. Did I call you Rinna?” He hung his head. _What must she think about me now? Fucking… shit Zevran how could you forget this and not at least warn her?_

“Zevran… look at me.” He met her eyes, his brow furrowed, lips pursed. “It’s alright. I knew what was happening. I sat with you, you did absolutely nothing wrong. For me, it wasn’t a big deal at all, I was sad for you, and glad to be there with you. It was like, ten minutes of just sitting with you. I imagine you feel like shit right now, Zevran. _That_ is what matters to me.”

“Nyla. I feel… raw, perhaps a little shaken.” He sighed. “Is _this_ why you called off today? Just because I had a night terror?”

“Yes.” She suddenly felt foolish. _Fuck, just smother him to death why don’t you?_ “I’m sorry, I should have asked. I wanted to just…” she stammered, her face growing hot. “I imagined you alone all day and… you’re not obligated to spend the day with me because I called off. Should I feel as stupid as I do, right now?”

“No, Nyla. I would be happy to spend today with you.” He laid down, pulling her down with him. “So sweet, Nyla. No kissing, Zevran did not brush his teeth last night.” He turned his head away from her advances.

“You can borrow my toothbrush.”

“Gross, Nyla. Gross.”

“Well, damn.” She chuckled. “I figured since our mouths spent so much time together... you know. Oh! I have mouthwash.”

“I will go use it. I have to piss anyway.” He pulled away from her and hopped up. “Actually, quick shower, too. Back in 15.”

She watched him walk away, almost drooling on herself as she watched muscular calves and a masculine gait exit her bedroom. _Oh my god even his walk is fucking sexy._ She pulled Cat into a hug against her, and he purred. Biting her lip, she imagined the last time he showered in her place a little too hard. Fifteen minutes went by rather quickly.

“Hey.” He entered with a flirty smile.

“Hey.” Nyla purred as he crawled across the bed toward her, looking exceptionally predatory.

“I wanted to say thank you. I have vague memory of you last night. When you held my hand and guided me back to bed. You are being so cool about this.” He stretched out next to her on his stomach, hugging a pillow, resting his head and looking at her. He couldn’t help but smile, “Nyla is very cool.”

“Oh you think I’m cool now?” She smiled, getting up. “Just you wait.” She came back moments later with tacos plated and warmed up, and coffee.

“Now Nyla is ridiculously awesome.” He chuckled, “You remembered what I like.”

“Chorizo and egg and black coffee.”

“Mmhmm.” He ate hungrily, watching her do the same, and his heart felt light. Her wide-necked tee shirt left her shoulders bare, complimenting her long neck beautifully; a woman never looked so damned elegant eating a breakfast taco.  
  
Nyla waited until they finished eating and she moved the plates off the bed and sat across from him.

“Zev, I have to tell you something important, and it’s a secret.” She sighed deeply, looked down and found it difficult to meet his eyes.

“Uh oh, Nyla won’t look at me.” He spoke softly, reaching out to rest a hand on her knee. “I am here.”

“It’s… bad, Zev. It could be one of those… deal-breaker things. If you take my meaning.”

“Enough build up, more sharing.” He nudged closer to her, sipping his coffee, feeling apprehensive and a little sad. _Is she seeing someone else?_

“This morning when I got back from getting coffee and tacos, I heard your phone buzzing and I got concerned. Like, maybe you had to go to work or something and I looked and it was Leliana and she sounded concerned so I was going to tell her you were okay and I opened your phone-”

“Shit.” Zevran palmed his face. _Oh, she meant deal-breaker for her._

“Shit.” Nyla mirrored him, her face felt too hot. _I knew it, I crossed a line._ “I’m sorry I… didn’t mean to. When I unlocked your screen it took me right to the messages from last night. I saw the words ‘bored’ and ‘horny’... I just… got drawn in like a psycho and I saw where you denied her, and then I was like, I need to just text Leliana, and get out of his private business, and I saw where you had denied several other people…”

“Oh shit.” Zevran bit his lip and cringed. “Did you… read my texts with Leliana too?”

“No. Fuck, by that time I realized I could just text her from my own phone and I felt like a complete fucking jackass.” Nyla buried her face in her hands and almost cried. She breathed away the tears. _Remember how this feels better than holding in the lie._

“Oh thank god.” He sighed. “Okay so, Nyla where is the bad part of all of this? I’m guessing, if you did not want to see me anymore, you would not have served me tacos and coffee in bed.”

“Wait, why didn’t you want me to see Leliana’s texts?” Nyla looked up at his suddenly crimson face.

“Can I not have a _single_ secret from you, Nyla? Because she’s my dating advisor!” He had to laugh. “Sometimes I ask her for ideas on how to… do things because, I take this seriously. I could show you-”

“No no… no god dammit, I swear I’m not planning any of this, I don’t need you to prove you’re not banging your roommate… I already feel like a jealous psycho, which I might be, given that you’re not even my…” Nyla blushed bright red. “I hate my life right now.”

“Somewhere Nyla is afraid to go!” He smirked, “I like this possessive part of you. I think it’s cute, I feel your care. It’s not psycho.”

“No, Zev. When I start looking through your things, it’s not cute anymore. It’s psycho.”

“Ah. You do have a point, Zevran is running for the hills now.” He turned away from her, and started getting up.

“You dick!” She cackled, leaped at him, grabbing him around his waist and pulling, sending them tumbling back onto the bed.

“Oooh a challenge. Nyla wants to wrestle me.” He flipped them both strategically, as always careful of the tattoo healing on her thigh. “Losing battle, Nyla.” He chuckled, straddling her waist, her arms pinned above her head.

“Wow. You’re very strong.” She giggled breathlessly. “And _so_ on top of me right now.”

“Yes. So what were you saying before? Not your what?”

“Oh my god.” She struggled fruitlessly beneath him. “Nyla is running for the hills now.”

“But she can’t, she has to squirm in discomfort while someone lays her bare and probes her for secrets!” He let her arms go and rested his hands on her waist. “Finish your statement, Nyla.”

“Oh no. Don’t. Please don’t.” Her stomach was already twitching in anticipation of being mercilessly tickled. “You’re putting me in a double-bind right now-”

“Wrong answer.” He tickled her, fingers wiggling gently against her.

“Pure evil!” she shrieked and writhed beneath him.

“Nyla doesn’t want to say she wants to be Zevran’s girlfriend!” He tickled her, and she squirmed, laughed, pushed on his arms. “Say it, Nyla!” He grew still.

“But is it as satisfying to hear if you’re torturing it out of me?” He wiggled his fingers against her again. “Oh my lord, why?”  

“Wrong words again, Nyla.”

“Okay okay yes, you little shit, I want that with you!”

“Wrong words again, Nyla.”

 _“Jesus!_ Okay! I want to call you my-” She blushed harder as she met his smiling eyes. With a deep breath, she let it out. “I want to call you my… buh…  boyfriend. My partner.”

 

* * *

 

Art by: [@lfigueroaillustration](http://lfigueroaillustration.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

 


	9. Chapter 9

“I agree, we should call each other partner.” He smiled and pinned her hands above her head again.  “See? Partners now. Was that so difficult?”

“It was. It’s scary.” Nyla looked up at his smile with serious eyes. “Maybe not as scary now that the moment has passed.”

“Scary to put words to something we are already doing anyway?” Zevran stroked her arms, drawing his hands down the sides of her body as he sat up. Nyla looked too rattled for him to feel good playing the way he had been. “What is scary, Nyla?”

“What does the change mean to you? What does it mean for us? What changes? No no, please don’t back away it’s making me nervous.” She reached toward him and he stopped climbing off of her. “I just… don’t want to guess my way through this _._ I don’t want to unintentionally believe something is explicit when it’s not. I don’t want to unwittingly cross your boundaries. I’m just… I want us to be good together. To each other. I don’t want to muddle my way through trying to be with you under the context of partners.”

“Nyla.” Zevran chuckled. “You are talking in circles. Let me lay next to you, I’m not walking away.”

“I'm sorry. I'm not sure why I got so scared… I mean-” She blushed bright red. “Damn, Zevran I haven’t had anyone this close to me since… since I lost everything.”

“Oh?” He sat up on his knees, retrieved a hair band from around his wrist, haphazardly pulling his hair up and wrapping it into a messy bun. “Calling me your partner brings me closer, and as such, one step closer to losing me?” Curling up next to her, he pulled her close.

Nyla felt like she was about to cry and she raised her palms to press against her eyes. She hated crying. Nobody wanted to see that, and it didn’t stop once she got going; she sighed deeply.

“Nyla? What is this, with the palms?” He kissed her shoulder and wrapped an arm snug around her waist. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing. Just give me a moment.” Her voice quivered, she breathed slowly and deeply, looking at him when she felt like she could keep her shit together. Nyla could see the concern in his eyes, expression soft; she felt safer. “Your hair is in a bun.”

“Yes.” He chuckled, “I am laying here next to you, I am yours, and my hair is in a bun.” Her face was red, her eyes were glassy, and her smile was real. “So, let's figure it out together, my Waitress. What is different now that I am your boyfriend.”

“Can I request the bun anytime I want?” She smiled with a mischievous giggle.

“Sure.” He smirked, wondering if she was going to get over the bun, or if he was going  to have to take it down in order to have her full attention.

“I guess more freedom to touch? I hold myself back a lot.” She smiled and nudged more tightly against him with playful exaggeration, still refraining from wrapping herself around him. “Okay how about you?”

“Hmm… free to text each other whenever we want, for whatever reason, at any time.”

“Really? You find yourself wanting to talk to me often?” Nyla smiled. “Now I don’t have to keep my phone in the microwave.”

“AHA! That is why Nyla keeps her phone in the microwave!” Zevran rolled onto his back, curling up with laughter. “You were trying not to text me since before I tattooed you, Nyla!”

“Well you stopped seeing fuck buddies since the night you tattooed me.” She smiled at him in her embarrassment. “I shouldn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay that you went through my phone, Nyla. There is nothing i wish to hide. Except the Leliana thing.” He stilled, lying next to her, their arms touching, and he laced his fingers with hers. _How_ did it feel so perfect with her? Why did it feel like everything he had ever wanted was right there next to him? It was beautifully confusing; all it took was one person and the way they made you feel, and all was right with the world. _How does this make sense?_

“Well, I took this day off to be with you… we have a whole day. Where would you like to start?” Nyla rolled over and straddled him. It was a bit too hot, desires too strong. She groaned and rolled off of him. “Why are you so sexy?”

“Nyla.” Zevran chuckled. “Why do I get an erection every time you talk or come near me? One of life’s mysteries.”

He rolled on top of her, and she wrapped her legs around him; it was torture. “I want to see what my girlfriend would do if she were home alone.”

“Excellent. Come on to the living room. You and your… man bun.” She patted his ass and they hopped up, and he followed her. Nyla immediately flopped onto her bean bag chair, limbs spread lazily outward, a contented smile on her face. “This is exactly- no, wait.” She grabbed her Xbox controller and turned on her Skinny Puppy and ogRe mix. “Okay, this is exactly what I would do right now if you weren’t here. What would you do, if you were at home right now? Would your hair be in a bun?”

“Probably.” He began his routine of gentle stretches. “First warm up, and then yoga.”

“Oh lord please don’t do yoga in front of me with a bun and in your boxer briefs. I literally can’t.” She sighed, staring at his muscular thighs as he grabbed his ankle, pulling his leg backward until his toes touched the back of his head. He smiled at her from his upside down vantage point. “Zevran… Oh my god. Why is this happening to me?”

“You should join me to distract yourself from your ravenous desires.” He spoke wryly with a chuckle. “Or act upon them,” he added with a shrug. She hopped up and began mirroring his moves to the best of her ability.

“Now I’m just watching you more intently.” Nyla laughed nervously. “This isn’t helping.”

“Same, Nyla.” He had to focus more on his breathing as her body elongated, her arms in the air, t-shirt lifting enough to see smooth enticing skin that needed to be caressed. “Your legs are too long. Sexy. This is going to get embarrassing for me if I do not focus on other things.”

“It’s not that much easier for me. And your hair is in a bun.”

“Nyla, it _is_ easier for you. I start tenting things, you just start to feel a little slippery.”

“A _little?_ Goes to show what you know.”

“Watching you stretch as you talk about how excessively wet you become is not helping my stretching.”

“Would you say this is sexy, annoying, or fun?”

“All three, for sure.” He answered seriously. “I only want to stretch today, maybe not the whole, sweaty hour and a half rigamarole.” He bent over, palms and heels flat on the floor.

“Why not? Have you got something else in mind to do?” Nyla couldn’t mirror him so she grabbed her ankles.

“You.” He breathed deeply, lowering from his downward dog position, onto his hands and knees for a cat stretch. “That didn’t come out right.”

“It came out fine.” She stopped stretching and stared, sitting cross-legged in front of him; her heart was pounding. He lowered his chest to the carpet, straightened his legs, and lifted his upper body with his palms. Every bit of him was sexy, the way he moved, holding himself to hover just above the floor with sculpted arms. His eyes were closed, head bent back, and he breathed deeply.

Peaceful, beautiful, his hair almost dry from his shower, she regretted Zevran was wearing a shirt. She just wanted to kiss him, touch him all over. Mind spinning with desire and nerves, unsure of how to move forward, she let some of it out. “Holy mother fucking god… sexual tension Zevran, this is ridiculous.”

“Mmm?” He opened his eyes and blinked a few times to focus on her. He was trying to stretch, center, focus, and then his girlfriend started talking about sex again, but it sounded like she was hurting. He sat in front of her. “I’m listening.”

“I… I like the way you dropped what you were doing to pay attention to me like that. Especially when your hair is in a bun.”

“Of course, Nyla.” He tilted his head at her, wondering how she could imagine he would do anything else. When his girlfriend sounded distressed, it fucking _mattered_ above all else; he hoped that one day she would learn that. Mildly irritated with her fixation on his hair he reached up, and pulled at the elastic holding it in place, and his hair cascaded down onto his shoulders.

“Daaamn... “ Nyla sighed in disappointment and lust beholding golden hair splayed over muscular shoulders. “Shit.” She licked her lips and cleared her throat, and managed to pull her shit together. “Zev, does it seems odd to you that we would establish ourselves as a couple, get ourselves so worked up, and then not express our desires in some way?”

“Yes it does seem odd, but I do not have to understand your boundaries in order to respect them.”

“Thank you.” Nyla tilted her head at him and felt soft; a pleasant accompaniment to her turn-on. “Zev, all I know is ‘ready’ and ‘not ready’... for some things I am ready. I don’t know how to um… just get what I’m wanting without getting something I don’t want. For example, if I wanted to have you in my mouth and that was it. The thing is, Zev… oh my god why are you taking your shirt off _now?”_ She narrowed her eyes at him.

“It’s too hot.” He smirked at her, and rested his elbow on his thigh, propping his chin on the heel of his palm. “Go on.”

“The thing is, I haven’t had many lovers because I don’t know how to just naturally end up with what I want and I’m trying something different right now, which is, to speak what I want. As opposed to not trying to get it just because I’m afraid you would think I’m ready for something I’m not. I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Zevran is not confused. You need to love me before we can bang. This seems rational. Many people are like this.”

“No, that’s not it. We need to love _each other._ That we both feel it is the important part.”

“Of course, Nyla.” Looking away, Zevran bit his lip nervously, _Zevran is waiting for you to catch up._ When he looked back to her eyes, she was looking at him. Eyes flicking all over him, then back to his lips, and he was enjoying her. “Is there more you wish to say?”

“Yes.” Nyla licked her lips and sighed. “For the sake of my sanity, we need to move the boundary, make it explicit, so I can see you fucking naked, and blow you.”

“So what you are saying is, hands and mouths, no fucking.” He spoke patiently, watching her melt beneath his smouldering stare.

“Yes. And I don’t mean like, now now, I mean, when it comes up. Like if… Like if the feeling is there and...” she forgot what she was saying as he leaned back, resting his palms behind him on the floor. He was on display, it was gorgeous; the feeling was there.

“Make your move, Nyla.” Zevran smiled with a shrug, teasing her, watching her blush, watching him with a serious and predatory stare.

“You cocky son of a bitch.” She whispered with a smile. “You did that on purpose.”

 _I am going to draw this!_ Zevran thought gleefully as she moved to her hands and knees, crawling the short distance to him with her smile; canines flashing and eyes so hungry. Zevran chuckled and she was on top of him, pushing his shoulders back until he was flat on the floor.

“What’s so funny?” Nyla spoke playfully, straddling him, sitting up and taking her shirt off, glad she had been in the mood for her matching black lace bra and panties today.

Immediately his eyes went wide and his hands grazed the smooth flesh of her belly and sides. Nyla had the look of a woman who was enjoying showing herself, and his desire flared. “Eres muy bella. Beautiful. Perfect.”

Her response was to move her hips and bite her lip, fingers splayed and running down his chest, they hooked into the waistband of his briefs. Zevran sat up and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her to unclasp her bra with a quick snap of his fingers. One hand squeezing her ass, he slipped her bra off of her with one swift movement and felt her bare breast for the first time in the palm of his hand.

As they moaned against each others mouths, Zevran held fast to her and stood, her legs wrapped around him. Playfully, he bent down and dumped her onto the bean bag chair. Pausing to take her in, the flush of her cheeks spread to her chest, her nipples were small and pink like he had pictured, only her bosom was _much_ larger. There were no freckles on her shoulders, and the soft skin of her belly was as perfect as he imagined. She was watching him watch her, and enjoying every moment.

He moved toward her, and impossibly long legs stretched out, toes lightly touched his stomach and she spoke with a sultry tone and smile, “Strip.” He grabbed her pant legs and pulled. “I meant strip _yourself!”_ Nyla cackled as her pants slid off her ankles and he threw them. He couldn’t help taking a quick glance at her tattoo to make sure it was healing well. His pause put him at a disadvantage, and Nyla stood, meeting his lips for a searing kiss with a hand on the back of his neck. They ran hands over each other eagerly, and she was walking him backward until his back met the wall.

 _Very bold!_ Zevran groaned against her mouth as her hand travelled down his chest, his stomach, down his briefs to gently clasp his cock in her fist. Her hand was warm, soft and she held him with the perfect amount of pressure as she moved to stroke him slowly.

Zevran couldn’t help pulling away from their kiss for a shuddering breath. “Fuck.” Her touch felt too good, and her mouth went for his neck the moment his head fell back. Basking in the sensations of her eager mouth on his adam's apple, she was very suddenly kissing and nipping down his collar, to his chest, her hands and mouth all over him, all of it happening so quickly he could only surrender to her whims. Soft lips met his hip and he looked down to see her tugging away the last of his clothing; he had been _so sure_ she would be the first one naked.

“Nyla…” he whispered as her eyes met his and her tongue glided up his length before taking as much as she could into her mouth. She needed no instruction, going down on him as if it was her most favorite task in the world. Her hands were gripping onto his thighs, cheeks sucked inward, her lips gliding along his length eagerly with a lusty groan. “Holy… shit…” He couldn’t help swearing with a chuckle, _“Fuck.”_

Running fingers through and over her hair, he touched her gently, petting her as her head bobbed slowly. She looked beautiful, he _really_ needed to draw this; this was going to be _fun_ to draw. Nyla wrapped a hand around him, cupping his balls gently with her other and… no, _this_ is what he needed to draw. He needed to draw a fucking flipbook. This was fucking amazing. She began working him with both hands and her mouth and he felt far too close.

“Stop stop…” he hissed, holding her head gently. “I don’t want to come yet,” he panted. She let him go from her mouth with an obscene pop. “Oh _shhhit!”_ He chuckled, winded, “Holy shit, Nyla!”

“I’ve been fantasizing about that for weeks. You liked that?” she purred with a smile. Looking up at him, Zevran was gorgeous, his sculpted body towering above her, chest heaving, dampened with sweat, eyes wide, smiling down at her with golden hair framing his face. Lips subtly swollen and pink, Nyla wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and kissed his thighs. “I liked it.”

“I bet you did.” His head fell back with a groan in memory of it. “To the bedroom, Nyla.”

She stood up and started walking, looking back at him with an impish smile. Her gaze moved from his smirk, to his erection, and to his eyes; her man was naked, pursuing her, and watching her ass.

“Nyla, your ass in those panties!” Zevran spoke playfully, grabbing for her.

“Oh my god, stop!” A gentle pinch sent her squealing and scrambling away from him. He liked it, so he did it again, all the way down the hall, to the left, and into her bedroom. Laughing, tumbling onto the bed, she flipped onto her back to protect her ass from his incessant tickling. “Someday I will find a way to get you back for that. Uh oh here he comes.”

Biting his lip, he crawled across the bed toward her, stopping to pull her panties off of her with both hands, she accommodated by lifting her ass a little.

“Ooh, does Zevran’s girlfriend always prefer the landing strip?” He tilted his head at her, surprised and turned on, his hands wandered up her body; she moaned so nicely when he caressed her breasts.

“Yes. I like taking care of myself in small ways, even when it comes to the landscaping.” She giggled and moaned as his hands wandered, “Your touch feels so good. You look so good.”

There were so many parts of her body that needed his kisses; namely, the entirety of it. Starting with her soft belly, he kissed, touched, caressed, wanting to go down on her, but not wanting to simply dive right in. _Fuck it,_ he thought as he dove right in, pressing his mouth over her, his tongue laying flat. A few rolls of his tongue, she moaned and her thighs pressed against his cheeks.

“Oh… oh my god.” Her hips rolled of their own accord, his tongue and lips simply designed to be exactly right where they were in order to drive her the absolute craziest. “Oh my… Zevran!” He hummed against her, sending pleasant vibrations through her, and she shuddered. So ready to go off, but not at all ready to go off for wanting to feel his perfect mouth on her longer. She hoped he wouldn’t wiggle his tongue anywhere significant; of course he did, perfectly. Her hands landed on the sides of his head, her body stiffened, _“Oh fuck! Oh my god! OH Zev! ZEVRAN!”_ She squealed, head tossed back, breasts rising and falling with her heavy panting.

Glorious; his loud girlfriend’s first orgasm from his mouth. He chuckled happily, patiently waiting for her hands and legs to relax and release him. When she did, her legs were trembling, and her eyes were wide, staring down at a glistening, satisfied smirk. Still whimpering and with lips parted, she reached out to him with elegant arms and he quickly swiped his face clean with the back of his hand. He felt soft for her, his woman who held sexual contact as precious; of course she would feel vulnerable after coming on his face.

“Nyla needs to be held.” He crooned, and she nodded, folding her arms around him the moment his chest rested against hers. They locked eyes for a time, and she tucked his hair behind his ear. Kisses were heated, loving, tongues and lips generous and indulgent. Cock throbbing, he was painfully aware of being pressed snug against her belly, his balls resting on the delicate folds of her most intimate of places. He stayed still, not wanting to appear demanding as she felt so vulnerable.

One arm still around him, she snaked the other between them, urging him with a gentle nudge to give her access. Zevran felt her hand slide along her own folds and his eyes went wide as she began stroking him; his mind was blown. His girlfriend had just had an orgasm that knocked her senseless and trembling, she wet her hand with her own juices, and was giving him a handjob while he was on top of her. With a tentative roll of his hips he let out a breathy moan, his forehead resting against hers, he met her eyes and she nodded. A hand wasn’t usually enough to get him off, but after so much buildup, expressing pent up desire, this didn’t seem like it would take long at all as he thrusted gently into her fist.

With a breathy moan he slowly fucked her hand; so very erotic, intimate, sensual, sweet, sexy. Nyla watched in awe as pleasure washed over his expression, his pace quickening as his hand rested on her cheek, and he kissed her with unbridled passion. Feeling him so close to his peak, getting harder, his hips slowing to slide in and out of her fist in long strokes, she held her arm firm and still as he pressed hard against her; his final thrust before speaking her name with a strained groan. Nyla trembled, following him, drinking in the pleasured expression on his face; eyes closed, mouth open and brow furrowed. Grabbing the skin of her shoulder firmly between his teeth, Zevran spilled onto her belly, his fists balled in the pillow on either side of her head, body trembling for what felt like several long, sweet minutes.

Waves of pleasure subsided, she pulled her hand away from his cock with care, wanting to hold him close with both arms. Zevran let himself go slack on top of her; mess be damned. His arms wrapped beneath her shoulders, and he rested his cheek on the pillow next to her head. Still flushed and sweaty from their exertions, Nyla’s head turned toward him and her eyes rested sweetly on his. They stayed like this for a long time, eye-gazing, simply being with one another and feeling close to each other in calm, blissful silence.

“Zev?” She kissed him briefly.

“Yes, amor?” He spoke softly with a returned kiss and a satisfied sigh.

“Did you just call me love?”

“Mmm.” _Well damn, maybe she won’t read into it and get freaked out._ “Yes.”

“That’s so sweet. I love it.” She melted, smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “That was beautiful. This is beautiful.”

“Yes. It is beautiful. And first hand to get me off that wasn’t my own.”

“Really?” Nyla grinned at him. “That kind of makes me feel proud. I think it’s because the thought of being intimate with me under the context of girlfriend turns you on. And it’s probably not going to be that easy next time.”

“Oooh, Nyla nailed it.” He chuckled and rested his forehead against hers. “Stop noticing everything, Nyla.”

“Stop being so transparent, Zevran.” Nyla rubbed her nose against his. Kissing him several times on his lips, his cheeks, his nose, she whispered, “I want to do that again.”

“Mmm…” Zevran hummed, basking under her affections. “I’m game. Did you have something in mind?”

“Fuck my mouth,” she whispered, meeting his eyes with a heated stare; Nyla was speaking his language, and his erection was sudden and fierce, pressing against her belly.

Things had gone from fucking perfect to more perfect, and Zevran could not believe this hot little minx was his girlfriend.

“Under one condition.” He sat up and straddled her waist, pinning her arms above her head. She whimpered and moaned as he drew a line of lazy kisses from her neck to her breast, taking a hard nipple between his teeth, drawing quick circles with his tongue.

Nyla gasped when he backed away, her body trembling, “Anything you want.”

“You are on my face at the same time.” He whispered in her ear, and she moaned, her hips wiggling beneath him.

“Yes please,” Nyla shuddered, and he kissed her mouth again with an aggressive tongue, climbing slowly off of her. She eagerly followed his lead, snatching up a shirt beside her bed and taking a quick swipe at the mess on her chest and belly. Zevran did the same and laid on his back. Instead of perching on his face as they had agreed, Nyla settled between his legs.

“Cheating, Nyla.” Zevran’s chuckle cut off as she held his dick in her hand and licked him from base to tip with a moan and closed eyes. “Wow, _fuck_.” He loved how her enthusiasm to please matched his own, and could not imagine how amazing it would be to make love to her; receptive and easy and eager to please.

“I want to watch you watch me.” Nyla smiled and bit her lip. It felt too good to let out so much sexual tension, to express her desires, look up at wide, lust-blown eyes of the man that made her come with his voice and her heart hum with everything she had ever wanted. _I should be riding you right now,_ she thought as her lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Watching his face, he watched her take him in inch by inch. His hands reached for her head and he began petting her as he moaned breathlessly. His gentle fingers lovingly swept through and over her hair.

“Nyla,” Zevran panted, wishing he could kiss those precious lips around his cock. Erotic, beautiful, her heavy lidded eyes so dark and gazing up at him. Her tongue was soft and rough, and she knew how to use it, exploring every curve and contour of his dick. “Eres tan bella.” _You are so beautiful._

“Mmm…” Nyla hummed gently, hearing his Spanish purr. His hips rolled and he hit the back of her throat with an appreciative groan. Nyla added her hand, and he moved his hips again, fucking her mouth, panting, beginning to sweat; it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and she came, fingers digging into his thigh and tongue working him with greater enthusiasm.

“Por mis ojos eres la mujer más guapa en el mundo,” _Through my eyes you are the most beautiful woman in the world,_ he whispered, gasping, losing his desire to be in control as he always was. He wanted to surrender to this and to her. It felt precious to him, the way her eyes shone with so much lust, love, and eagerness as she watched his body move and learned all the ways to make him crazy. “Perfección,” he whispered, moving her hair from her face and gently holding it between his fingers, his arm following the gentle, quick, up and down movement of her head.

Nyla, being mindful of her promise to partake in a sixty-nine, felt the telltale tightening of his balls, the enthusiastic roll of his hips, the strained look on his face, and the delightful groaning and panting, another orgasm shuddered through her body as she pulled her mouth away from him with a pop and a gasp.

“I promised you I would sit on your face.” Nyla panted, her body still twitching from her most recent orgasm.

“Did you just come twice from blowing me?” He asked incredulously, breathlessly, sitting up to be nearer to her.

“Oh my god, yes. It was hard to stop blowing you because I want to see your face as you go off.” She spoke breathlessly, squealing gleefully as he leaped at her.

Their bodies met with force, and they kissed, Nyla squealing and both of them giggling with eager mouths connected as they tumbled backward off of the mattress and onto the carpet. Cock pressed along her folds, he had her pinned, hands wandering, her arms and legs tight around him. Zevran wanted to pound Nyla until she was screaming his name and forgot her own. Nyla, surprisingly, found herself in the same predicament.

So much _trust_ for him, as his cock pressed against her heat, and she just knew, regardless of how vulnerable or compromised she was, he would not breach that trust. _Orgasms are not given, they are allowed;_ those were Zevran’s words, and they rang true to her.

Every sweet memory with him up to this moment flashed in her mind’s eye, the instant connection, the flirting, the fun, the banter, rapport, the sense of having an implicitly trusted best friend in a lover and she couldn’t imagine her life without him; ever.

 _I love you;_ It hit her like a freight train. Her heart expanded in her chest, desire at a fever pitch, she came again, stomach clenching with the force of it as she moaned and dug her fingers into his shoulders.

“Fuuck!” Zevran pulled from their kiss breathlessly. “You orgasm from kissing.”

“Your kisses, thoughts of you, your beautiful words and your dulcet tones. The wisdom of your mind and body and the way you make my heart sing. I fucking-” _love you._ She cut herself off.

“You fucking what, my lovely poet?” He spoke softly, caressing her face with his fingertips; beauty had poured from her kiss-swollen lips in the throes of her pleasure, and he loved every word.

They locked eyes, and she was burning to say it, and it felt like he was seeing right through her. _If you say it now, you’re going to completely wreck the mood, Nyla._ She giggled and ran her hands gently along his back. “I fucking complicate things with my mouth.”

“Oh?” He grabbed her lip between his teeth and pulled gently before letting it go. “I have seen exactly what you can do with that mouth.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her, rising to his knees, flipping her with a strong grasp until he was eye level with her soaking heat, her legs splayed wide open in the air.

“I’m upside down with a cock in my face!” Nyla cackled, grabbing onto his thighs. “I never thought- oh my god!” Her fingers dug into his thighs as his tongue lapped at her generously. “Oh fuck! You’re too good at this!” She felt him chuckle against her and it made her shudder.

When he teased her opening with his tongue, she could hardly stand it, and she wanted so badly to move her hips; this particular position did not allow for it. Her eyes closed, she moaned desperately, wanting so much more than the tip of his tongue gently probing her most sensitive places, it wasn’t enough, it was frustrating and beautiful and driving her crazy. With a gentle bounce, Zevran adjusted his grip and Nyla couldn’t help her breathless laughter when his cock slapped her in the cheek; she remembered to reciprocate. Taking him with both hands and her mouth, his stomach tightened in response, and he let out an appreciative moan.

He wanted to 69, she wanted him to fuck her face so she could watch him get off, and if he could finish her off first, both could happen. Impressed with her skilled mouth, Zevran allowed her to work her magic on him and redoubled his efforts; it was a sharp relief and disappointment when she stopped sucking his cock to lose herself in her own pleasure.

“Oh my _god!_ What are you-” Nyla let out several guttural moans between panting breaths, wiggling in his arms so desperately, her hands gripping his thighs and pressing her more firmly against his face.

Letting himself fall backward until he was flat on his back, Nyla held herself up with palms on his chest and began moving her hips. Moans built in intensity, he slipped his tongue inside of her, raised a hand to fondle her breast while the other massaged between her folds, circling her pearl.

 _“Oh! Oh! Oh!”_ she wailed, thighs flexing and toes curled in his periphery. He internally rejoiced; he had landed himself a screamer, and now she was screaming his name. Body trembling and jerking, she screamed and pulled away from him. “Oh my… oh my god.” She whined and fell to her side. _“Oh my fuck.”_

Sitting up, he reached to grab the shirt and used the dry side to wipe off his wet face; Nyla had not lied when she spoke of excessive wetness.. _._ _HOT!_ Lying next to her, she was panting, trembling, her eyes closed, and when he touched her, she curled up against him, her cheek pressed against his chest.

“Okay, amor?” Zevran chuckled, stroking her back, his fingers brushing through her sweat-dampened hair.

“No! Oh my god. What the hell.” She laughed and curled up closer to him, her heart slowing. “Give me a moment. I know I owe you one.”

“You owe nothing, Nyla.” He smiled and caressed her gently, pulling her closer, poking her in the hip with a throbbing erection which made them both laugh.

Finally having gotten her shit together, Nyla looked up at him. He was smiling for her. It _felt_ like a smile just for her, it looked like it, and she felt that urge again, to run her big mouth. _I love you,_ she thought really hard and scooted herself to have her face nearer to his face for a kiss.

“My girlfriend has epic sex hair.” Zevran smiled playfully, brushing it tenderly with his fingers.

“How do you want it, Zev?” She touched his nose with hers, hand lowering between their bodies to stroke his cock.

“I want to give you the experience you are wanting.” His fingers drew lazy lines along the curve of her waist, his hips moved and he bit his lip.

“Hmm…” Nyla felt heat rush to her face as she thought about it, visions of thrusting hips and his pleasured sounds and expressions. “I want to feel your passion, feel you move. Hear your sounds. I want you to come in my mouth.”

“I want to watch you figure me out.”

“Tell me what you don’t like.”

“Ooh, intriguing. I don’t like pain, or shaming.”

“Zevran. Those things don’t sound sexy at all.” Nyla chuckled. “Is it safe to assume you prefer something more… sensual and gentle?”

“Yes,” Zevran responded breathlessly. “Gentle, sensual, enthusiastic.”

“Lay down on the bed, on your back.”

So he did, and she sat up to watch him lay back comfortably with his hands folded and tucked behind his head. She sat there watching him, on display, he was smirking, cocky, gazing at her expectantly with a soft and lusty stare, toned body, an expanse of beautiful tawny skin for her to do as she wished; this was going to be _fun,_ and she could not believe this was her life _._

Getting to her hands and knees she crawled the short distance to him. Her hands meeting the tops of his feet, her palms glided gently along his legs, over his knees, nudging his thighs apart so she could settle between them. Lowering her body, her tongue dragged up the length of his cock, and she kept going, watching him for reactions as her tongue and mouth explored his stomach and chest with licks and kisses. Zevran hummed appreciatively as his cock settled between her breasts.

The gentle pressure of such soft flesh around his cock prompted his hips to move. Nothing had ever occurred to him as so sensual as she kept worshipping him, kissing him, her hands wandering his skin, teasing stimulation of breasts on his cock. The way she moved stoked his desire, a feast for his eyes as she indulged herself, stroking his ego with displaying her attraction to him; it all felt so heart-centered and it built upon his already intense desire for her.

“Eres muy bella.” _You are very beautiful._ He whispered, sighing as her hands moved to press her breasts around his cock. He had wanted to watch, to keep his hands to himself and leave her to her own devices, but his control was waning. The experience she was creating for him was too sexy, leaving him on the cusp of desperation for more. More touches, skin on skin, kissing, his mouth craved hers, but with his lust at a fever pitch he imagined his request would sound more like a plea. “Kiss me,” he chanced to ask, and her response was to give him exactly what he wanted, enthusiastically.

With her mouth on his, she reached a hand down, her palm gliding along his firm stomach to grab his cock, and his hips moved with her strokes. Loving the way he moved, panted, sweated, the way he recieved her so openly, so responsive to her touches; feelings of love and trust intensified as she backed away from their kiss to lay between his legs, flat on her stomach. Zevran caressed her so gently, lovingly on her shoulders and her head as she held him in her hand and took him into her mouth.

Watching him, his lips slightly parted and eyes wide, she hummed, taking him deeper into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat. _Such a nice cock. If only we were-_ A lusty groan interrupted her thoughts, deepening her unspoken desire to climb on top of him, and she moved her head and hand with more vigor.

“Nyla…” he groaned rolling his hips, hands explored her with eager attention. Petting her hair, her cheeks and jaw, he was so close, eager for release. When her other hand moved to play with his balls, he felt at the point of no return, and when she tugged on them gently, he felt it happening. _“Fuck!”_

“Mmmm…” Nyla moaned when she felt his cock grow more rigid in her mouth. Holding rapt attention on his face, she kept moving as his head tossed back. This is the show she wanted; he looked strained for a moment before his body grew still and pleasured bliss washed over his features. Sounds that came from him were more than she could bear; repeated lusty groans as he turned his head to bite down on a pillow, spilling into her mouth with force. She came with him, her hips moving against the bed in the wake of it.

He felt her swallowing, heard her coming, and it intensified his experience, made him come harder, made him somehow love her harder. _“Fuck!”_ he cried out again, his body curling inward through his tapering peak.

“Stop… stop…” he hissed, cradling her jaw in his fingers. “Too much.”

“Mmm.” She backed away breathlessly and sat up, panting. Their eyes met and they stared at each other in awe. “That was more amazing than I had imagined...” her voice trailed off as she wiped her chin with the back of her hand.

Eyes locked on hers, he wanted her to come closer. Normally, at this point, he would throw his clothes back on and either sit around for a few minutes of pleasant chat, or go home to have a snack and work on his art. Imagining that ached, he wanted so much more with her, for himself. Surprising himself, he reached out to her with arms open. She looked sweet and relieved as she moved toward him, and he relaxed into this new vulnerability. They curled into each other, arms around one another, legs tangling comfortably; she felt like the missing piece to his puzzle, and Nyla had finally felt at home.

* * *

Zevbun selfie by @captainmoutchi on tumblr!


	10. Chapter 10

Zevran knocked on her door in giddy excitement, even though that very morning Nyla had given him her spare key to lock up on his way out. His excitement to see her had not waned, despite being with her Wednesday night, and spending all day Thursday in various positions of oral delights in her bed, on the floor, in her living room, on the beanbag chair, against the wall, on the kitchen counter, in the shower. He even woke up with her Friday morning, spooning her and purring sweetness in Spanish against her ear until she got off- that was fun as fuck. Zevran found Nyla’s inexperience with sex a little comical; they had done so many things together he considered kinky, and had rarely partaken in with casual lovers. Yes, his sweet girlfriend was very confused, it was adorable, and he would gladly give her whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it.

Nyla opened the door with a wide smile, “Hey. Oh shit. You look-”

“Oooh.” He looked her up and down, almost dropping the flowers in his hand. “I had become unaccustomed to seeing you in clothes, and now this.”

“Oh, you.” She purred and backed away, looking him over. Black slacks and a midnight blue, button-up shirt beneath a black vest. “Wow. You look so good in blue. You’re wearing jewelry. Oh my god, you’re too _hot!”_

Zevran followed her in and closed the door behind him. Getting out his phone, he began to video her. “Look at you. Leliana would kill you for those shoes.”

He panned up her body; elegant heels that made her taller than him, long legs beneath sheer panty hose. Her black velvet dress showed off cleavage, graceful neck and shoulders, cinched at her waist, flared and ending above her knee. Bell-sleeves tight to the elbow fluttered with every elegant move of her arms. Gold earrings and a necklace that almost matched his didn’t surprise him. “Sexy, elegant... Zevran’s girlfriend has style.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she chuckled, blushing and basking under his attentions.

Nyla smiled shyly as he moved closer to her face, admiring her immaculately made-up face with wine colored lipstick. Looking up at him through thick, dark lashes, _ugh that lovely, angelic, flawless face!_ Her hair was pulled up in a loose bun with wisps of hair framing her face, and the thin leather collar she wore made him want to throw her down and bite her.

“Turn for me, amor.” Zevran spoke, backing away from her. “What color panties are you wearing?”

“Guess.” She turned for him, like a ballerina, arms gracefully outward, her dress flouncing high on her thighs in her brief spin.

“Lovely, Nyla… I’m guessing black, to match that garter belt.” _Good fucking god my girlfriend in a garter belt... No, Zevran we are leaving. Wooing. Dating. Fuuuck._  
  
“Yes.” She turned to face him again and struck a pose; her hand on her hip, one knee bent, she shrugged a shoulder and blew him a kiss.

“Lacey?” He started to feel very hot.

“Of course.” Nyla giggled, sauntering closer to him, intentionally turning up the cute, flirting with her eyes. Given he was consistently destroying her brain with how utterly sexy he was, it was fun to be on the other side of that.

“I am betting it matches your bra.” He smirked and stopped looking at her through the camera.

“Yes,” she purred, “Want to see?”

“Yes… Well...” Zevran turned off his camera and adjusted his erection. “Pardon my adjust. No. Yes. I mean, no. Yes but... reservations, amor. We have to go. Fuck, why did you say that to me? Fuck. Let’s go, put these in water, and tell Cat they are not for eating.” _This woman is trying to kill me._

 

*******

“Did you bring me here because you like Russian food?”

“I have never had it, I thought we might explore something together.”

“That’s fun, Zev. I like that.” She squinted at the menu, holding it up and turning it in several directions. “The menu looks… like… not tacos.”

“Would you rather go get tacos?” He looked up from his menu. No sooner than he asked, her eyes lit up.

“Ooh no. I see what I want.”

“Oh? Already? Show me.” Zevran leaned in and their waitress arrived.

“Have you been here before?” The young waitress asked in a thick Russian accent.

“No.” They both answered. Nyla looked excited, Zevran relaxed.

“Here are complimentary wodka shots. Here is bread, kraut, salt, radish and green onion. You drink wodka, with these on bread... it is like snack for your wodka!”

“Thank you!” Nyla beamed at her. “Could you please bring us some osetra?”

“You would like an egg with that?”

“Please. That would be lovely.” When the waitress walked away, Nyla chuckled happily, “It is like snack for your wodka!”

“What is osetra?” Zevran looked through the menu curiously and couldn’t find it. “I thought you never had Russian food.”

“Front page, sturgeon’s eggs. You haven’t had it?” She began piling kraut on bread for both of them as he looked. “It’s amazing, I haven’t had it in years.”

“No amor,” he chuckled, put his menu down and spoke with a shrug, “My background does not have me exposed to caviar which is $200 per ounce.”

“Shit.” Nyla sputtered, “oh my god. I am paying for it, I should have said that. I have extra money saved and this is what I want to spend it on. I want you to enjoy it with me, I… I don’t know, do you even _like_ seafood?” Her face was hot, she felt humiliated, and she absolutely did _not_ want to talk to an orphan about her dead parents or how she was a spoiled rich brat who never had to think about the price of anything, showered with as much love and attention as a kid could need. “I’m sorry, let’s just go.”

“No no… Nyla, why are you getting so worked up?” He leaned across the table to rest a gentle hand on her arm. Nyla, fidgeting and blushing, he felt for her, imagining humiliation and embarrassment. “I did not mean to say any of this was wrong.”

“I feel like I fucked up, Zevran.” She spoke, looking at his hand as if she were surprised it was there. “My parents were nice to me, and they had money to… to sometimes buy nice things… and… and you’re an orphan, I don’t know what the shit that was like. I don’t want to rub my privileged life in your face-”

“Nyla. Nyla. Look at me.” When he had her attention, he held her hand. “None of his will be an issue unless we make it one. And besides, just because I was an orphan, it doesn’t mean I did not have loving parents.”

“You did? The way you spoke, I figured you were a ward of the state most of your life or something.”

“No. I just… withheld much.” He smiled nervously, “I had a mother and a… and a mother.”

“You said that twice.” Nyla took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Her head felt a little more level, and her heart slowed. “Where are they? Do you still speak with them? Do you have siblings? Are they also adopted, or are they biological?”

“I would much rather have a happy and sexually charged dinner with you, if you don’t mind.” Zevran winked at her, and she melted.

“Of course.” She locked eyes with him, letting the sense of humiliation and embarrassment roll off of her. She started to relax, their smiles were real. “Zev? Will you sit next to me? Instead of across from me. I want to be closer to you.”

“Are you going to feed me $200 caviar, Nyla?” He smirked at her blush, getting up from his chair to take the one next to her.

“You’re damn right, I am.” Her skin tingled as his hand rested on her thigh. More grounded after his touch, she remembered she was sitting with her incredibly sexy boyfriend in a fancy Russian restaurant. They were about to eat osetra and have snacks with their ‘wodka’ shots; her excitement had returned and she almost said, _I love you._ Instead, she smiled at him and giggled, resting her forehead on his shoulder. _You’re an idiot, Nyla. Calm down and don’t scare off the poor unobtainable hotness, you literally just got him._

“Too cute Nyla, your excitement.” He rested his cheek on the top of her head, loving the sweet cuddly moment she was bringing him in public for all to see; Zevran felt celebrated, and he loved his muse deeply. “I love-” his heart skipped a beat and his tongue felt a little numb, “the way you smell.”

Sitting up to meet his eyes, she gave him a peck on the lips, and wiped her lipstick off of him with her thumb; such an intimate gesture, making Zevran smile and blush; he could not believe this was his life.

“It’s called ‘Amber Aoud Absolue Precieux’ from Roja Parfums. My mother used to wear it and… it reminds me of her. In a pleasant way.” Nyla bit her lip. “It’s comforting.”

“That is a beautiful story, amor.” Zevran reached for the platter of bread and kraut, pulling it closer to them. They began toying with it, realizing the waitress left them with several questions.

“The salt goes where?” Zevran laid a bit of green onion on the kraut on top of the bread.

“She said… something about the radish.” Dipping the radish in the salt she laid it on her bread piled high with kraut. “This can’t be right.”

Zevran dipped his radish in salt and spoke, “Well. I am eating it.” They both lifted their bread, sauerkraut getting everywhere as they chuckled, watching each other try to navigate their vodka snack. “It tastes like kraut on bread, and a little went down your dress.” Zevran spoke and picked up his shot. Nyla mirrored him. “Cheers, amor.”

“I felt it, it was cold, and it went pretty far down there. I’m not digging in my dress in public, cheers.” Nyla chuckled, tossing the entire shot back while Zevran sipped his. “You sipped it. Did I fuck this up?”

“No!” Zevran laughed. “She did not specify and there is more snack left, I assumed I was supposed to save some to go with the rest.”

“Ah, then I must have more wodka! Is good though, ya?” Nyla spoke with a Russian accent. Zevran chuckled, licked his lips and Nyla wanted to chide him for turning her on in public. “Smooth. Very smooth drink.” _The things he can do with that mouth._

“Very smooth. I saw on the menu they have several infused vodkas as well.”

“Oh this should be good.” Nyla opened the drink menu. “Rose. I want rose infused. God, isn’t that the same thing as perfume? Whatever, I want it in my mouth.”

 _Don’t… say that…_ Zevran bit his lip and sighed, drinking the rest of his shot. “I wish to try bacon and habanero infused.”

“That sounds disgusting!” Nyla smiled, her hand running along his leg affectionately as she laughed and leaned in close to him.

“It does! This is why I must try. It exists for some reason, it must be good.”

“That is a valid point.” Nyla thought about the profound truth in his words, simultaneously remembering the seaweed latte she bought several months back, “Not as valid a point as one would think.”

“Oh?”

“Seaweed latte.” She shuddered in the memory of how utterly disgusting it was. “It was akin to licking a caffeinated seafloor covered in- oh, thank you.” The waitress began setting their caviar service. Nyla cleared her throat, bit her lip and remembered the last time she had osetra, vaguely hearing Zevran order their vodka shots.

“Nyla?” Zevran tilted his head at her, watching her stare longingly at the giant, ice-filled crystal bowl containing two small crystal bowls.

 

_‘Thanks for meeting with me, Mom. I know you’re busy. I’ve just been so lonely lately and Alistair and everyone is so busy with school. Even Fergus said he was too busy planning for his new job. Oriana is always doing mom stuff with Oren. It feels like I’m alone all the time these days.’_

_‘Ohhh, poor thing! I had no idea you were so lonely, honey. I had imagined you having fun with your sorority friends. I always refrain from bugging you. You’re grown and, I mean, I had a needy mother and she drove me fucking crazy. We could meet more often, I can treat it like a regular appointment.’_

_‘Really? I would love that! I really miss you, Mom.’ Nyla smiled, with an upwelling of excitement to see her favorite person in the world on the regular. ‘I’m glad we cleared that up.’_

_‘God. Me too. Such a relief. I miss you too. Want to go shopping with me Saturday? I need to get fitted for new suits. I’m thinking my skirts should be longer, I’m getting older now and I’m starting to feel like I should dress more my age.’_

_‘Oh, bullshit, Mom. Quit teaching me to collapse under societal pressure. And you don’t even look your age.’_

 

“Nyla?” Her attention snapped to him, her mother’s laugh echoing in her ears, and he was looking at her with a soft smile, compassionate eyes rested on hers. “You look sad.”

“I am a little,” she swallowed and sighed, her heart breaking and melting, she wanted to curl up and cry.

“But not as sad as you are pretty, I would wager.” He leaned in close and smirked, smoldering at her.

“You would win such a wager.” Nyla smiled with a nervous giggle. _Pull it together, crazy. It’s just a caviar service._

“How does this work?” Zevran spoke softly, picking up what looked like a small pancake.

“First you put a little crème fraiche on the toast. And then usually just a little bit of caviar, but I enjoy a bit more.”

“This spoon is made of mother-of-pearl?” Zevran turned it in his fingers curiously. “Very pretty.”

“Yes,” Nyla smiled, happy to share the knowledge her mother had taught her. “Metal changes the taste, so it’s usually served in a glass bowl, with a glass or mother-of-pearl spoon. This place uses crystal bowls, it’s very pleasant to look at. My mother would appreciate it.”

“This is an elegant way to eat.” He stared at her for a moment, remembering empty home, empty cupboards and paper plates… _she is punishing herself…_

Zevran grasped more clearly how hard her losses must have hit her. A lifetime of loving support and privilege all torn away overnight, forcing her to quit school and live as a waitress; it must have broken her, and she was still picking up her pieces. He remembered the feeling keenly, even though his breaking was far more than two years in his past.

It was an epiphany for him, and Zevran felt deeply touched; he was part of the calm after her storm, and he loved her more for it.

Offering the caviar to her, she smiled, eyes misty, and ate from his fingers; it felt like the most intimate gesture to him. He loved her soft smile, the satisfied sigh as she chewed with her mouth closed, and he stroked her cheek briefly with his fingertips.

“It’s very good.” Nyla chuckled, smiling at him, and she sighed again, sinking into their intimate space together, it felt like home, the urge for tears dissipated along with the loneliness. “Let me prepare one for you.” With more crème fraiche and a little less caviar, she fed him. It was satisfying, her index finger brushing his lip affectionately as her hand pulled away.

“Mmm. It is… a flavor,” he struggled to withhold his disgust and swallow it. _Fuck, I hate that I hate this._ “Like what they put on top of sushi only more… fishy.” Zevran sighed and drank his water.

“It is a flavor.” Nyla mimicked his accent with a chuckle and an understanding smile. “I’m sorry you don’t like it. Alright, let’s try something else.”

“Everything is ok?” The waitress approached the table with their infused vodka shots.

“Brilliant, thank you so much. We’re going to order more. Will you please give us just a few minutes to look at the menu?” Nyla smiled at her. Zevran loved the respect and kindness she showed the waitress, he imagined, a mannerism she learned from being one. Eyes on the woman’s eyes, friendly, as if a human speaking to another human; it was beautiful, he needed to draw her. “She talks like you, Zev, only with a Russian accent. Everything is ok?” Nyla mimicked her accent and chuckled, picking up her vodka.

“You do accents well.” Zevran picked up his shot, and they clinked their glasses together gently and sipped their drinks. “Mmm. Hot.” He blinked and cleared his throat.

“Yep. Mine tastes like perfume.” Nyla cleared her throat and took a sip of water. “Try it.”

They traded glasses. Zevran sipped, and nodded appreciatively. “Probably good? My taste buds have been murdered, though.”

Nyla sipped, slammed the glass on the table and lost her shit. “Wha…hah... _hot._ Zevran, why did you let me do this?” She drank water before he could tell her not to. “It’s worse now… Oh god. _I am going to literally die.”_ She fanned her face with both hands flapping and tongue sticking out.

“I told you hot.” Zevran could not help laughing.

“You said hot like it was just hot, not fucking hot. Oh lord. _My mouth is so hot.”_

 _Don’t… say that…_ Zevran cleared his throat, picked up the menu and tried to repress his smile and calm his giggling. “Perhaps we should spend $200 on something for you to wash it down with.”

“Oh my god.” Nyla laughed, leaning on him. “You’re such a dick.”

 

*******

“I walked into the kitchen, said a simple good morning, and they both screamed like girls, cards going everywhere.”

“You’re shitting me.” Nyla cackled, lighting a cigarette and clinging affectionately to his arm as they left the restaurant. “That _sucks!”_

“They were so pissed. ‘ _We broke our record, Zevran!’_ Hilarious, to hear Anders scream like that. I tease him about it every opportunity.”

“Who sits around building houses out of cards, anyway? That’s adorable. They spend a lot of time together, it seems. Every time I talk to Leliana she brings him up. I invited her shopping but she promised Anders she would bring him lunch at school. I’m totally shipping them.”

“Shipping them…” Zevran chuckled in partial understanding and delight. “As in, imagining them in a relationship?”

“Yes. I could see Lelianders married in five years.”

“Lelianders!” Zevran chuckled and nodded, “I love this! I also ship them, amor. I have been for at least four years now. It is _agony_ to watch them not date while behaving as if married.”

“I’m going to meddle.” Nyla smiled, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“How? Zevran will help.” He met her mischievous grin with his own.

“I don’t know yet. Every time I’m around them, try to plant a little seed. Oh, I will find a way.” Nyla stopped in front of a club with the door wide open. She dropped her cigarette and stepped on it. “Salsa music. I need to dance right now.”

“Do you wish to go inside?” He asked as she took his hands and twirled herself around, his arm going over her head.

“No.” She laced her fingers with his and guided him to dance with her. “I said, I want it right now.”

Zevran pulled her tight against him. If his lady wanted to dance in the middle of the somewhat busy sidewalk, well, he was a little too tipsy to find the will to deny her.

“Oh, very nice.” Her chest meeting his took her breath away. It was divine, the way he moved her. Surprising and arousing. “You wish to lead this time, I take it?” Nyla purred in his accent.

“Mmm hmm.” He stepped around her, moving his hips, and she followed his lead.

Dancing with a partner was not often something Nyla was inclined to do; with grace, she allowed him to lead her, and his smirk was killing her as his eyes wandered her body. Spinning, with his arm over her head, Nyla smiled, laughed, and Zevran loved the sound of her.

“Alright love birds, move along. You’re blocking traffic.” A jovial sounding security guard interrupted their play.

Zevran winked and nodded at him, leading her away from the doorway of the club, dancing, twirling, stepping around each other, shaking shoulders and playful laughter as they danced all the way to the end of the block. Stopping at the crosswalk, his arms wrapping around her, he dipped her backward and pressed his lips to hers. With a surprised hum she rested a palm on his cheek, the other hand caressing the back of his neck. Letting her go was hard, as the telltale beeping of the crossing signal piqued his attention.

“My place.” Zevran purred against her lips. “Only three blocks from here.”

“Let’s go.” Nyla smiled, bending down to pull off her shoes.

“No no no… Not walking with no shoes!” Zevran pulled out his phone to order a Lyft. “You are too intoxicated to be making such decisions.”

“I’m really not that drunk. I’ll be two blocks away before that shit gets here.” She walked backwards away from him. “Come on.”

“Nyla, you are crossing the street backwards.” He rushed after her.

“I looked, and the thing is still beeping, we have the right of way.” She giggled and grabbed his hand and he walked briskly with her. “You’re being weird.”

 _“I’m_ being weird? Think of what you may be stepping on. Or in.” His girlfriend was setting his anxiety on edge; it killed his boner.

“I am peripherally watching the ground.” Nyla tilted her head at him with a smile. “It’s okay.”

“But the ground is filthy, Nyla. Please, shoes now, as a favor to your doting boyfriend.”

“Your girlfriend would suffer more from walking three blocks in these heels, than by getting the soles of her pantyhose dirty.”

“Then let’s get a Lyft.” He stopped walking after they made it across the street, she stopped to face him. Meeting her eyes with seriousness, he spoke, “This is making Zevran scream on the inside.”

Nyla felt twinges of guilt for not taking him more seriously, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stress you out. I wish I had picked up on it sooner, I have more respect for you than this. I get a little excitable when I drink, not that I’m very drunk. That’s no excuse for treating you poorly, but… sorry, darling. I’ll do better in the future with picking up on your distress.”

He looked at her with wide eyes as her hand cupped his cheek. His girlfriend apologised to him warmly while looking into his eyes, he felt her care when he needed it, and he wanted to fuck the absolute shit out of her.

“Call us a ride?” After a full minute of Zevran’s intense stare, he hadn’t responded to her apology. Bending down to put her shoes back on, she smiled up at him and spoke, “Come on, Zev. I’m ready to behave like an adult again.”

 

*******

“It got cold really fast.” Nyla sat at Zevran’s kitchen table and hugged herself. “I thought these long sleeves would be enough. I’m still not used to the stark difference in temperature between day and night in San Francisco.”

“It takes a while to get used to, amor.”

Anders’ bedroom door flew open. Nyla shrieked and laid a hand over her chest. He was wearing a fluffy white robe and his face was green. “Did you just call her love?”

“God dammit, Anders!” Nyla panted, wondering how the world just kept going as if everything happening was completely normal, and there wasn’t a green faced man in a fluffy robe making women shriek in the kitchen. “Oh my god. The universe. And everything.”

“I did.” Zevran spoke as he placed a glass of water on the table in front of Nyla, chuckling and tilting his head at her horrified face. “Drink this, amor.” He said it again so they would hear it again.

“He did!” Anders turned around and looked back into his room. “Twice in the past minute.”

“No shit?” Leliana’s voice carried. “That’s adorable!”

“Here we go.” Nyla sighed, sipping at her water, her heart slowing. “Make everything stop being weird, Zevran.”

“Hold on!” Leliana ran through with Anders on her heel, green faces and mischievous smiles. “It’s time for us to rinse.”

“Zevran.” Nyla whispered. “They’re in matching white robes and doing facials.”

“I know! Do you see what I mean? Married!”

“Well I mean, that’s not exactly something outside of the possibility of just close friendship but… Yeah, totally married.” She chuckled, bouncing in her chair. “What is this water nonsense? Do you have anything more alcoholic?”

“I’d like us to sober up, I wish to go on the rooftop, and that is a rule. No belligerent drunks on the rooftop.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because we might fall off?”

“No, that’s obvious. I mean why do you want to sober up and go to the rooftop instead of drinking more and not going on the roof?”

“I wish to talk on the roof. Not completely sober talk but not drunk talk either.”

“Ohh. I see! Tipsy talk. Sounds fun.”

“Yes. Besides, the good brandy is in my room.” He smirked.

“Oh.” Nyla giggled with a coquettish grin, slipped her feet out of her shoes and affectionately ran her toes along his legs.

“Okay we’re coming in!” Leliana shouted from down the hall, giving them fair warning to stop making out all over the kitchen, if they needed it. Nyla slipped her shoes back on, and sat up straight. Zevran adjusted his boner. “Let me see your shoes!” Leliana spoke immediately. “I mean your outfit, too.”

Standing up, Nyla stood back and curtsied.

“Ohh nice shoes. Zevran go stand by her.” Leliana pulled her phone out of her robe pocket. “I need pictures of this.”

They stood side by side with an arm around each other.

“Get closer!” Anders huffed. “It’s not fucking prom night!”

They held each other close with a laugh, Nyla pecking his cheek.

“Cuuute! Okay pose together. Something cute-coupley.” Leliana smiled at her camera, taking picture after picture, loving everything about this, loving how happy and relaxed Zevran looked. Even Nyla didn’t look her exhausted and lonely self. They were perfect for each other. Peas in a pod. “She’s taller than you, Zevran.” Leliana teased, and Nyla picked him up around the waist to make him taller.

Anders laughed, hopping a few times in place. “That was fucking amazing. Okay give us sexy poses. You are both the sexiest. Now pose it.”

Leliana withheld laughter so she could keep taking pictures, Anders hovering behind her and giggling raucously. Nyla and Zevran laughing at themselves and each other as they followed instructions. When Nyla slid her skirt up to show off her garter, Zevran furrowed his brow and tugged her skirt back down over it.

“Okay. Okay. Now.” Anders began, after trying to catch his breath from watching Leliana take picture after hilarious picture of Zevran being possessive. He had no idea where he was going with this, he was just being silly, joining in the fun. “Okay. Now, just hug. A huggy picture. That would be nice.”

“Nah.” Nyla tried to pull away, “Thanks. I'm done.”

Zevran hugged her, as always, jumping on any opportunity to make her squirm. “I want a huggy picture.”

Nyla laughed and wrapped her arms around him. “Fine.”

“That was lovely.” Leliana smiled at her camera. “That moment when you laughed and hugged him. Give him a kiss.”

“I love pictures but you’re embarrassing me.” Nyla cackled and buried her face in Zevran’s neck.

“Awww… shy, neck-bury picture.” Anders teased.

“Zevran is not embarrassed.” He chuckled, satisfied by her squirming and hiding.

“Aww, Nyla, come on, show us kisses!” Leliana teased. “Just a little one?”

Nyla’s response was to squeal and whine playfully, “Why is this happening to me? I want to go kiss him a lot in the privacy of his room!”

Anders saw Leliana hit record video, and he bounced a little in giddy excitement whispering, “They’re adorable, let’s torment them even harder.”

“Look at her hiding… so cute.” Leliana giggled. “Show us kisses!”

“Kisses! Come on, Zev!” Anders spoke with a laugh, “Do you love the absolute fuck out of your Sketchbook girl or not?”

Zevran grabbed Nyla around her waist, placing hands on her back, he tilted her backward and planted a kiss on her lips. It was gentle, earnest, and the room grew still in the wake of its sweetness. When they stood up at righted themselves, Nyla and Zevran’s eyes locked, and Nyla’s hand rose to touch her lips; such an important moment in their lives, happening way too soon where there were far too many witnesses.

Leliana watched their faces through her camera before stopping the video and taking a picture; it was so sweet she felt a twinge of envy, and looked back at Anders.

Anders winked at her and whispered, _“He is going to kill me.”_

Leliana nodded emphatically with a whispered reply, _“Worth it,”_ and turned back around to look at the cute couple in cute outfits.

“Bitch.” Anders laughed hard, hugging her from behind.

Nyla glared fiercely at them, tired of their meddling. They had already meddled enough, they had no right to push them when things were already seemingly going too fast; this was going to fuck with Zevran, and fear and trepidation rested in her heart. They both had sentiments, strong feelings, sometime she was even convinced she loved him, but it didn’t make them ready, it didn’t make it true. She could only imagine the chaos that kiss was going to cause.

“Let us go to my room.” Zevran, rattled by his own actions, felt her tension and had no idea what it meant, other than maybe she needed to go relax before she murdered someone.

“Okay.” Nyla smiled, lining up the pins to knock them down. She took off her shoes. “Thanks for the pictures, guys, but I really want to just go hang out alone with Zev now.” First she hugged Leliana, and then Anders. “Anders, you’re way too tall.”

“He is.” Zevran nodded. “The tallest asshole.”

“Freakishly so.” Nyla chuckled. “Don’t you think so Leliana?”

“Heeey.” Anders pouted.

“No, I think he’s the perfect height!” Leliana spoke defensively.

“Perfect height for what?” Nyla smiled innocently. Dead silence. _Nailed it._

“Fffff- for... not being short.” Leliana stuttered, her face feeling hot.

“Alright, seed planted. Goodnight, Lelianders.” Nyla started backing away.

Anders gasped, “Whaaat? You did that on purpose… you’re shipping us!”

“We’re shipping you.” Nyla kept backing away, grinning ear to ear. Zevran watched, wide eyed in awe at her brilliant torment; she sounded playfully psychotic, it was delightful. “And we’re going to squeal at every adorable thing you do. Then when you’re really vulnerable, we’re going to pressure you, and push your heads together and say _now kiss!_ ”

“Come on, girlfriend. Our work here is done.” He grabbed her arm and started guiding her up the stairs, laughing when Nyla pointed two fingers at her eyes, and extended them toward his poor roommates. “Amor, they know where we sleep!”

“He said it again.” Anders gasped, “wait, he called her girlfriend! OH my god you did not mention the change in relationship status!”

“I had to literally torture it out of her. I shall share more when she is not present,” Zevran called back to him, ignoring a squeaked, _‘wait, what?’_ from his girlfriend. “Goodnight, Lelianders.”

“You know we are real people right? You can't just ship people. They can't ship us." Anders turned to Leliana for confirmation.

"Well, we can forbid it, but I think we may need to shake them violently to make them stop thinking it." She folded her arms across her chest and glared.

“Goodnight, Lelianders,” Nyla called as Zevran’s bedroom door opened, and they went inside. Zevran shut the door with a relieved sigh; he simply could not survive this combination of people for much longer.

 _“You can’t ship us!”_ Anders called up the stairs. _“God dammit, Zevla!”_

“Oh ho ho… that little bitch.” Nyla flung the door open and hollered down the stairs, _“Goddamn hypocrite!”_ She shut the door again and smiled at Zevran, laughing. Her face fell for a moment. “Wait.” She opened the door again. “Are we for real fighting?”

Moments ticked by and she tilted her head to try to understand the hushed voices below.

“No!” Anders called out.

“Stop shipping us!” Leliana yelled.

“We’ll think about it!” Nyla replied, and shut the door. “That was hila-”

 _“Stop shipping us!”_ Anders called up the stairs.

 _"I said we’ll think about it, god!”_ Nyla was smiling and laughing. “This is amazing.”

“Sketchbook girl?” Anders called.

“Lord jesus. Hold on, sweetheart.” She opened the door. “Yes?”

“Why is Leliana’s name first?”

“Because she’s prettier.” Nyla withheld a giggle and tried to keep a straight face.

“I told you!” Leliana cackled and they walked away with a quick _“Stop shipping us!”_

“I love everything about this, Zevran.” She giggled hard, leaning back on the door.

“It is… a mess, Nyla are you capable of having a relaxed relationship?” He chuckled, unbuttoning his vest to get changed into something more comfortable. Something was hurting, scary, and he could not pinpoint it or figure out how to even talk about it.

“Our relationship is relaxed.” She walked across the room and turned on a second lamp so she could watch the show.

“It is not! It’s passion and sex and kissing and telling secrets. Always intense, bouncing around between emotions.”

“Zevran, I thought you liked our intensity… relaxation makes the intensity possible. Are you hurting right now? Are we fighting?” His stern gaze was throwing her off.

He looked away from her to drop his vest on the back of his chair. “I wasn’t complaining about the intensity, I do like it. And I cannot tell if we are fighting, after you asked.”

“We could be. I am feeling a little crazy, I missed my medication.” He wasn’t looking at her and missed her smile.

“Fuck.” Zevran sighed, staring at the floor. He rested his hands on his hips, shirt half unbuttoned. What a deep and dark secret to withhold, his trust breached; if she had been withholding that, it must have been for a good reason. “What does that even mean, Nyla? Why do you need to be medicated?”

“I’m kidding.” Nyla laughed, pulling her hair down. “I’m not medicated. Zev? Did you get hurt? Something feels… off.”

He sat on a chair and palmed his face with both hands. “Fuck.” Things were quiet for a moment apart from the sound of her feet on the floor as she came toward him.

“What a world, right?” Nyla spoke sweetly, her hand resting on his arm, “Are you okay?” She caressed him lovingly. “Zevran, love, will you talk to me?”

When he looked up, her eyes were soft and serious, his heart was hurting. “So much chaos and confusion. The kiss in the kitchen... I went too far, said too much. And now, hot, perfect girlfriend is looking at me with adoration and care after feigning missed medication, Nyla, I’m fucking falling _hard_ for you, and that could have been true. You could have been withholding that secret. I barely know you, and I’m falling so fucking hard for you.”

"You know me better than anyone in the world.” Nyla whispered, his heartfelt speech landing in the pit of her stomach.

“Do you even have anyone else left to know you?” He demanded softly, knowing his question to be cruel but needing to force the point, needing to figure this out. _Are we for real? Is this happening?_

“Ouch.” She backed away from him, her heart aching. “That hurt. I know lots of people, Zevran. I have been very close to a lot of people in my life. Just not in a long while, and not like I am close with you.”

“I just… I feel bad for being cruel just now. With you I feel so… it has been only two weeks since I have known you… and… and… fuck, I need to _slow down.”_ He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Slow…?” Her heart crumbled. “Do… do you want me to leave?”

“What?” He opened his eyes, saw her devastated stare and reflected on his own words. “No! No, amor, no. That is not what I meant. I meant right now, in my speaking and sharing, I need to slow down because I am getting confused. Thoughts jumbling, and… words and feelings.”

“Shit. I thought you were breaking up with me.” She breathed deeply to slow her heart. “I was like, well that was quick.”

He chuckled softly and shook his head. “No, that is not at all what I am wanting.”

Nyla smiled, “I’m glad.” She watched him stand and begin to pace.

“It occurs to me that you know nothing about me. Where I have been, what I have done.”

“Do you feel like I need to know your past in order to know you and see you?”

“Yes, Nyla. Perspective changes. The more I learn about you the more I feel you. I understand better why you behave the way you do, and why you are the way you are. It means a lot to me that you know my past, so I get to be known.”

“I want to hear the whole thing when you feel safe enough to share. I want to know you.” Nyla stood in front of him, to stop his nervous pacing. “Look at me” She waited patiently, he sighed, and met her earnest gaze. “Yes, I want to know everything, and not knowing does not change how I feel about you now.” Her hand raised and fingers traced the three tattooed lines down the side of his face.

“It is a weight on me, becoming heavier the longer you don’t know. I wish to tell you.”

“Right now?” Nyla’s eyes went wide when he nodded. “Let’s go to the rooftop. Your safe space.”

“Yes.” He smiled, “Nyla?” He paused, his heart in his throat, “You are precious to me, no matter what happens.”

* * *

Awwwww.... thank you [@kuuderecupcake](http://kuuderecupcake.tumblr.com/)!!!!! Look at the lipstick on his face omg it's so cute hnngggg!!! <3


	11. Chapter 11

Zevran wrapped his girlfriend in a blanket, to keep her warm as they sat on his rooftop. Each with a glass of brandy in their hand, he broke his own rule and brought the whole bottle, heart quivering nervously in his chest.

The damp chill on the air felt grounding, the discomfort of cold, relaxing. Zevran, while having a strong need for Nyla to know everything, found it unfathomable she would do anything but walk away.

“Do you have any secrets left, Nyla, that you do not wish to share? That you believe would have me walk away?”

“Yes, I have at least one that comes to mind. Though, if I believed you would walk out on me for it, I wouldn’t be with you right now.” Hoping he didn’t demand her secret now, she sighed to relax herself. “I wouldn't want a partner who would walk out on me, anyway. Has that happened to you before?”

Zevran shook his head and Nyla had never seen him so pensive, never felt so far from him. “Zev?”

“Hmm?” He couldn’t look at her as he sipped on his drink.

“Do you want me to start?”

“I suppose. Though, I am not sure how.”

“I can ask a question.” She watched him closely, her heart clenching in seeing him so apparently tortured. “Let me be curious?”

He nodded and sipped his drink. "Sure, why not."

“Tell me about the tattoos on your face.”

“Always knowing exactly how to get to the heart of every fucking matter, Nyla, how do you do this?” He chuckled with a sad sigh, taking another sip he put the drink down to slow his intake. With a glance at her, he looked forward again. “My tattoos are something I chose to cover something else.”

“It was a beautiful choice.” Nyla spoke softly, watching him closely.

“I am aware. This is why I chose it.” He shrugged and clasped his hands in his lap. “And thank you for saying so.”

“I wish I felt closer to you right now.” Reaching a hand toward him he backed away from her touch.

“Nyla, I do not wish to be touched.” He sighed and looked down. “I do not mean to be cold, I need distance right now.”

“I understand. It just feels like you're punishing yourself unnecessarily.” She spoke gently, missing the man who offered touch and kisses so generously; still loving him deeply. Fighting the urge to say _I’m not going anywhere,_ she moved forward. “What were the tattoos a cover for?”

“They covered something gang related.” The desire to drink intensified, and he tempered the impulse. “A symbol, I will not go into that. Back in Mexico I was in a gang called the Crows.”

“Mmm…” Nyla nodded. “It’s common for kids estranged from their natural families to get involved in things like gangs.”

Her softness, openness, willingness to hear him annoyed him. “Nyla, I _was_ orphaned, but a nice family adopted me. There is no excuse.”

“You’re being hard on yourself. Sometimes the feeling of abandonment, just knowing you were left behind by your parents, even if it wasn’t intentional, even if you don’t remember it… just knowing can leave us with a desire for more. Leave us feeling empty, even resentful. Looking for anywhere to belong.”

“And you get this from being a psych major, I wager?” He rolled his eyes, masking it with another drink, feeling frustration with himself for lashing out at her; he respected her more than this.

“Yes. And I understand it a little more because I am an orphan. Left to my own devices, wandering and looking for somewhere to belong. Nothing like what happened to you, but I feel like I can identify with you to some degree.” Every annoyed sigh and roll of his eyes made sense to Nyla; he was deflecting her care, believing he deserved none, and she was going to keep giving it to him.

“What happened to me, Nyla, is myself.” He sighed and put his drink down. “I am not trying to beat myself up. It is simply true. I meddled in places I did not belong despite myself, knowing things were wrong, seeking _something._ I did not know what. It was probably as you say, but I did not feel like I did not belong with my family. I do not know what I was seeking.”

“You don’t have to know, love. Nobody is demanding an answer to that question.” She spoke patiently, sipping on her own drink, and turning to face him. “You got away from this life, somehow.” A stormy painting flashed in her mind's eye, and her heart ached for him.

“Yes, when it was too late.” He sighed. “At first, I was not part of them, yet they were… welcoming. They asked me to tattoo them. That is how I befriended them. Tattooing. I honed my skill on them and they paid generously. They were kind toward me. Buying tattoos, inviting me places where I might tattoo more people, have a few drinks. I met a girl, she was seventeen, same as me. I tattooed her a lot.”

“Rinna?” Nyla asked softly, and he flinched.

“Mm hm. That was Rinna. She became my lover first, and not long after, my girlfriend. She was bold, had dark hair and dark eyes like you. Not so pale. I digress. I am not speaking to compare you to her. Just musing.”

“You can muse.” Nyla smiled. “I imagine it feels good to talk about her. You can if you want.”

“There is not much to say. I remember her face-” he scrubbed his cheeks with his palms, “what she looked like. I remember my care for her. It does not matter.”

“All of it matters,” Nyla whispered, taking a drink as he glared at nothing, facing forward. She let it roll off of her and kept loving him.

“After a time of tattooing them, they asked me to do something small. Drop something off somewhere, innocuous looking envelopes and small packages. I had figured I was doing something illegal, but I figured, who gives a shit about a little pot? What trouble could this be? It was no trouble. I dropped things off, I left. Innocuous.” Zevran shrugged and sighed. “They made me feel appreciated. Paid well for tattoos and tipped me a little extra for just making a little side trip on the way home. I was able to save enough to buy mi madre a car, so she did not have to walk so much and pay cab drivers to take her to work. It seemed a good arrangement.”

“They started you out small.” Nyla spoke softly. “Offered you a lot of compensation. You were able to provide for your family, buy your mother a car. What an ideal arrangement.”

“Yes. They took me under their wing. I get it, I fell for the trap.” Running a hand through his hair, he scrubbed his face again, took another drink, and he put his glass back down with a loud clunk. He picked it up again, looked at it, put it back down. “I wish I had not done that. I do not wish to break my nice things. I hope it did not crack.”

“I’ll get you another,” Nyla whispered, watching every movement, every frustrated gesture, every tormented gaze; she wanted to touch him so badly.

“The deliveries were fine, I was used to them. One evening they asked for a ride. I figured, why not? Drop them off, wait five minutes, drive them home. Delivering a person instead.” Zevran shrugged.

“Oh, _fuck.”_ Nyla, with her skin tingling with fear and anger, reminded herself to remain gentle.

“It was actually quite fun to have my friends with me for a drive. I was not entirely naive, I knew they were likely delivering or picking up some illegal thing. But I thought, well, how bad could it be? I had no trouble before, doing their errands.” Despite his every effort to keep his knee still, it jumped neruotically. “This one was not a little thing. There was gunfire, my car windows busted, bullet holes in the side. It was… not good.” He took another drink. “My glass is leaking. I cracked it.”

“I’ll get you another,” Nyla whispered, offering him her glass. He waved it away and picked up the bottle. “What happened? Were you hurt?” She thought hard, trying to remember any scars; she would have absolutely noticed any scars.

“Nobody was physically hurt. I became hardened and angry. The fear I felt that day... I stopped tattooing. I stopped working on my art and I worked for them. I saw what monsters they were, and somehow I was ready to be one of them.” He brought the bottle to his lips and drank, putting it back down.

“Oh.” Nyla spoke, her stomach clenching, fingers tight around her glass, she took a long swig.

 _Any moment now._ Zevran waited for her to leave and she hadn’t moved. He kept his eyes forward, watching her drink and pull the blanket tighter around herself in his periphery. “I did their errands. I drove them around. New bullet holes, new car, it did not matter. Shootings were not so common. I only saw three.” He scrubbed his face with his palms with a strained sigh. “Four. I saw four shootings.”

“That’s very hard, Zev. That’s really terrifying.” Nyla put her drink down and sat up straight. “How are you right now?”

He chuckled through his nose. _What the fuck kind of question is that?_ “Stressed.”

“Stressed.” She repeated him. “I would be more than stressed. I would feel a lot of remorse. Shame. Fear. I would be pretty pissed off, too.”

“Do you wish to hear the story or make inferences on how I should be feeling?” He fought her off, wanted to glare at her, but he couldn’t even look at her.

“I want to hear the rest of the story, love.” She saw his eyes mist over and brow furrow at her words. Her arms ached to hold him, to jump on him and squeeze him until he squeezed her back. “I’m here for it. Please continue.”

“They asked me to do something despicable and I was far too okay with it, Nyla.” Furious with himself, he didn't’ feel like he deserved to speak such a beautiful name, of such a beautiful woman. “Find the nephew of some rival, and rough him up a little. Just hit him once or twice, no big deal.” He sighed deeply, shaking his head. “I do not think hitting someone is no big deal! Why did I think it then? What was wrong with me?”

“Zev… did… did you kill this man?” Her heart sank, she felt as if she could vomit. _Is this what he thinks I will walk out on him for?_

“A boy. Perhaps fifteen, not much younger than me. And I hope not.” Scrubbing his face again, he glowered at the city lights with a shudder. “The boy said hola to me, with a smile.” His stomach lurched, and he swallowed it back down. “I only hit him once, and he hit the ground hard, blood from his head. I made an anonymous call to get him help. I did not mean for it to happen.”

“That was good, though, right? You did what you could.” She watched him closely, her heart pounding, “You did the right thing after all, though.”

“I believe I… did my best to correct my mistake. The Crows were watching me, assessing me. They saw my panic as the boy hit the ground. They heard me on my phone, calling for help.” Sighing, he scrubbed his face again. “They told me they were giving me twelve hours to run. A head start. The next time they saw me, I would be killed on sight. So…” Zevran picked up the bottle and drank from it. He wiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I called Rinna, of course. I told her what happened, and to come with me. That we would go to San Francisco and start a new life.”

“So… fuck.” Nyla sat up straight and the blanket slid from her shoulders, trying to get a grip, to prepare herself for the rest of his story. “So you… you got pulled into a trap. A common one, this is how they do it, Zev. They get them young, they train them, they desensitize them a little at a time. This… none of this was your fault, you know that, right?”

“I was an ass.” He shrugged, his eyes cast down. “Naive.”

“You did _exactly_ what any other lonely and estranged boy would do.” She spoke more passionately, wishing he would just look at her.

“So you’re saying this was normal behavior?” He chuckled, “Cute.”

“Yes, Zevran. I’m saying it was normal behavior. Zev, look at me.” She moved closer to him, despite her efforts not to cry, tears slid down her cheeks. “Love, I want you to look at me.” She fought the urge to say _I’m not going anywhere,_ knowing it would just give him another reason to feel pangs of denial and annoyance.

He looked down at the roof and shrugged. “I wish my eyes to be over here.” Zevran ached that she kept calling him love, and he swallowed back tears, heard the telltale throaty sound of tears in her voice.

“Where is Rinna now?” Nyla gave up trying to pull his attention. Staring out at the city, pain lined his stare and he looked so far away. _Telling the past should not hurt this much. Has he had any therapy whatsoever?_ Nyla realized she was ill-equipped to deal with this; he wasn't just telling a story, he was reliving his trauma with improper support, and then she had pried. _I'm fucking him up!_

“Well.” He stared at the city lights, squinting just a little bit to make them look like stars on fire, as he was wont to do on occasion when comfort was needed. “They lied. They did not give me twelve hours, they were following me. Once I got to Rinna’s house, they fired on us. Rinna actually… jumped in front of me. She said she loved me.” He heard the unmistakable sound of Nyla’s withheld sobs as she cupped her mouth, but she sounded so far away. “She was my height, you see.”

His voice, soft enough to be a whisper, Nyla’s heart was almost pounding too loud in her ears to hear him. She hiccuped in her attempts to withhold sobs, reaching for him with a soft gesture but not touching him. He was wiping his face again, he didn’t even have to tell the rest of the story, but she let him.

“She was hit somewhere here.” He gestured to his face with an open palm. “Me behind her.” He closed his eyes and waved his hands along the sides of his face, reeling backward for a moment and then sitting up, letting his hands flop helplessly on his lap. He shrugged, “Then Zevran ran.” He swiped at his cheeks. “My face, my shirt, sometimes they still feel... wet.”

“Oh no. Oh my god... I'm sorry!” Nyla jumped up and stomped away from him; nervous energy wracked through her body. _“Holy fuck,_ Zevran.”

 _There she goes._ Zevran smiled; a breathy chuckle through his nose. He shook his head, and then she was stomping back to him; that part was surprising.

Nyla had no fucking clue what to do. Her lover was right in front of her, swimming in his trauma, he needed _real_ help, what the fuck was she supposed to do? _Fuck… fuck… how do I do right by you?_ Standing over him, his stare was so far away, he hadn’t shed a single tear as he kept wiping his face. _Just like your night terrors you poor, beautiful creature._

“Zevran.” She spoke loudly, to get his attention and disrupt his thousand-yard stare. He looked up at her, startled, inquisitive, as if wondering what she could possibly want. She bent down, moved his hands from his lap and straddled him, facing him. Taking his face in her hands, he averted his eyes, and Nyla wiped his cheeks for him so he wouldn’t have to. Her softness and urgency brought tears to his eyes. “Look at me, Zevran.” She pressured him a little more, her voice soft and imploring, “Look at my eyes. Look at me. Look.” It took everything he had, but he did. “See? I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Gentle hands ran over his cheeks again. “It’s gone. Nothing is there.” Her forehead rested against his and she wept for him. “You’re clean.”

“Why are you crying, Nyla? Don’t.” Voice cracking with withheld tears, he couldn’t understand, didn’t _want_ to. His shoulders trembled as his face felt dried by gentle sweeps of his Nyla’s loving hands, _but how?_ He began to weep for the first time in so long. “Why are you doing this?” Body trembling, Zevran leaned into her; her tears, her care settled in his chest, pushing away everything else, and it spilled out his eyes, down his cheeks, dripping from his chin. His love’s arms wrapped around him, rocking him gently, _weeping with him,_ his face rested snug against her bosom. He had never cried over _this,_ never over _her_. Breath coming in hiccups and gasps, he clung to her; trust overwhelmed apprehension, and Zevran was _grateful_ to be in this woman’s arms, grateful to have someone to wrap his arms around as he wept like this.

It was such sweet relief for Nyla to hear him, feel him crying in her arms. Exactly what he needed: to purge the tangled hurt that lived within him, haunting him as he slept. When she rocked him, his tears intensified, so she kept doing it; he moved with her. Zevran’s arms tight around her, she held him more firmly, arms and legs around him. Cheek resting on his head, Nyla realized, just like her, Zevran had lost everything all at once, and perhaps this was what drew them to each other in the first place.

“I’m so sorry.” She kissed the top of his head and sniffled. “Nothing you have said would make me want to be away from you.” His grip on her tightened and he cried at the sweet ache accompanying her words. "You're still wonderful, Zevran." Sinking into the warmth of her, he let tears flow, and Nyla stayed with him; hands in his hair, kisses on his head and face, legs around him, holding him firm, whispering sweet things he only half heard, but they soothed him.

When tears subsided, Zevran still had his girlfriend and his life, he came out the other side of the storm whole and in love; this was perfect. Nyla had held him in his weakest moments, still held him, and he trusted her fiercely. When he looked up at her with a refreshed smile and swollen eyes, he felt newly-born, and she smiled back at him, tender touches on his cheeks as she swept his tears away.

“Okay, amor?” She purred in his accent, staring into his eyes with a smile and a sexy tilt of her head, and he laughed, nodded, pulling her in for a gentle kiss.

“Okay, amor.” He spoke after he pulled away. “Of all our intense moments together, that is easily one of the top five.”

“Easily.” Nyla smiled, returning his kisses, hands still cupping his face, legs still around him.

Reaching over and grabbing the blanket, Nyla wrapped it around his shoulders, and with his arms Zevran tossed it over hers, cocooning them. They had no words, only tender touches, satisfying kisses, basking in the warmth of each other. Kisses, sighs and caresses, they laid back, curled into each other, and stared at the sky.

“How are you feeling, Zev?” She adjusted her head on his arm to look at him, eye-to-eye.

“Amazing. Refreshed. I feel like not crying anymore and doing fun things instead.”

“Ooh, fun things. I’m game. What’s on your mind?”

“Girlfriend’s garter belt.” He chuckled. “So hot. Too hot.”

“Those are good thoughts, no?” Nyla mimicked his accent with a smirk.

“You are too hot.” _Hnngg…_ Sighing deeply, he collected himself. “What are you thinking about right now?”

“Somehow I didn’t expect you to return the question.” Her face felt warm, she cleared her throat. “Other stuff. You know, I feel less cool now, with my not-sexy thoughts.”

“Oh? Tell me the thoughts, and the feelings that come with them.”

“A… very poignant demand…” After several moments of thought she spoke, “It’s too hard, I think. Maybe I’ll… possibly tell you the thoughts later.”

“I want them now.” He raised his head and quirked an eyebrow at her. “Those things you refuse to share are always the best things when I get them out of you.”

“Fuck you.” Nyla cackled, unsure if she wanted to kiss him or fling him off the roof. “You are not allowed to know me that well.”

“Alright.” He sat up with an exaggerated grunt, swinging a leg over to straddle her.

“Wait. No. God dammit.” Her stomach muscles tightened and giggles were impulsive. His hands rested on her waist. “Fuck. You’re not going to win this one.”

“Wrong words, Nyla.” Wiggling his fingers, she squealed and squirmed, and her resolve cracked so easily.

“I am falling for you really hard!”

“I know this.” Zevran grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head with a mischievous smirk. “There is more, yes?”

“Damn.” She sighed meeting his eyes, “Sometimes, in very big moments where I feel closest to you, I think I love you, and then things calm down, and I start being an adult again. I am falling so hard for you.”

“Mmm. Zevran was not expecting that.” He hung his head and chuckled. “Same, brave Nyla.”

“I know this,” Nyla mimicked his accent, stuck between adoration and frustration. “And I’m not brave, you tortured me.” The pouting was real.

“Oooh, poor tortured Nyla. I should make it up to her somehow.” He crooned playfully, his lips an inch from her ear. “Tienes una sonrisa muy bonita.” _You have a beautiful smile._ Zevran had no words to describe how satisfying it was when she gasped and trembled beneath him. After a few moments of slow, indulgent kissing, he jumped up and offered his hands. “Let’s go dance.”

“What? Where?” Nyla grinned, as he helped her up gently. “I love dancing!”

“I know this! In my bedroom.” He smiled, encouraging her to hold tight onto his arm.

Whether it was the alcohol, or the catharsis he had just been through, Nyla couldn’t say, but he seemed happy, light, loose, playful, and there was a distinct lack of ‘cool guy Zevran’ smirking at her. She loved him either way, but this Zevran was refreshing and _adorable!_ He held her arm tight to help her in the window, making sure she didn’t hit her head; _so sweet!_

“Turn on my monitor and find us some music! Computer is on.” He went back outside to retrieve their drinks and the blanket.

Taking a moment to look around his room, she appreciated the orderliness to it. Canvases, though there were many, were lined up against the wall, and she desperately wanted to go through every one of them; especially the hidden one, covered and on an easel. A stack of sketchbooks on his bedside table beckoned her, but it seemed more fun to go through his things when he would be there to tell her about them. This made her feel warm and teary, just how badly she wanted to be near him all the time, how close she wanted to be. She wanted to know everything about him. Reaching for a tissue from the box on his bedside table, she wiped around her eyes. _Oh god, my eyeliner…_ looking in the mirror, she was an absolute mess with dark streaks down her face, _didn’t he care? Oh my god… he didn’t laugh or say any fucking thing-_ she threw a tissue away in a wastebasket near his bed, filled with other balled up tissues. Visions of Zevran jerking off in his bed hit her hard and she almost hurt herself.

“Oh god. Oh my god.” She grabbed another clean tissue and began cleanup of remaining eyeliner on her cheeks.

“Okay amor?” Zevran spoke, crawling in the window. “Something happened?”

“Tissues!” She stammered, still trying to catch her breath, “Eyeliner. Everywhere, Zevran.”

“Yes. Perfect face was a mess for a moment there.” He shrugged and turned on the computer monitor, and turned toward her to smile. “It was very cute. I am going to-” _draw it later_ “... find us music, yes?”

“Is that your screen saver?” Every version of every selfie they took together she watched go by for 3 minutes straight in awe. “Oh my god, I love watching this.”

“Mmm. Same. We are so pretty!” He hugged her from behind, arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder. “What music would you like?” Opening spotify, he cringed a little when his _‘Nyla’_ playlist was right there.

“I have a Zevran playlist.” She smiled, feeling bashful. “I’m barely tipsy, Zev. I want to be very drunk.”

“That sounds good. Seeing you good and drunk would be fun, I think.”

“Same.” She picked up the brandy. "Shots?"

“No shots of my good brandy, Nyla!”

“I’ll buy you more.” She sighed. _Stop saying that!_ “I mean, when I get paid. If you think this is good, you should try my Courvoisier. Remind me when we’re at my place.”

“Sounds good.” He shrugged, “But we are still not doing shots with my good brandy. Come on downstairs, we will find something.”

“It’s 1AM, is this okay?”

“There is no bedroom curfew on Friday night, Nyla. They are probably playing Mario Kart right now.”

“Oh my god, they’re fucking adorable.”

“I know this! I cannot fucking stand it,” he spoke, exasperated. Nyla laughed and took his hand, they ran downstairs together.

“Zevran! Sketchbook Girl!” Anders spoke excitedly. “Margaritas!” He turned on the blender and shouted, “Want one?”  
  
“Yes! With extra salt and lime, please!” She was still shouting as the blender stopped, “This is awesome, thank you!”

“You don’t have to _yell_ at me.” Anders withheld a giggle and pointed at her with a spoon. “Zevran likes his margaritas the exact same way. You two can’t just come down here all adorable like this and like the same shit right in front of us.”

“Yes, I'm so glad you came down to ship us some more,” Leliana snarked with a wry grin.

“Oh, that...” Nyla spoke nonchalantly. “I had already forgotten about it. You seem to be stuck on it, though.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Leliana turned bright red and sipped her drink. Looking at Zevran, his eyes were a little swollen, and she wondered if he had been crying. Watching the couple closely, they appeared excessively happy; Zevran standing behind Nyla, sweeping her hair out of the way so he could place gentle kisses on the back of her neck.

“Here.” Anders handed Nyla her drink. “Now get somewhere, you’re both giving me cavities.”

“I think we should play drunken Jenga.” Leliana spoke with a smile.

“A game that goes nowhere?” Nyla giggled trying to imagine it and sipped her drink. “Oh, so good, Anders! Thank you!”

“Anders does well at drunken Jenga. I do okay. Zevran knocks over the entire table.” She laughed and pushed the chair next to her with her foot gently and motioned for Nyla to sit. “Zevran can talk like the soberest man when drunk, but then you ask him to do anything at all-”

“You’re asking for disaster.” Anders handed a glaring Zevran his drink. “Extra salt on the glass, extra lime, just like his fucking _girlfriend!_ Didn’t even _tell_ us. _”_

“He tortured it out of me.” Nyla spoke incredulously. “And _then_ , he starts doing _yoga_ in my living room. In his… fucking... buh… brief... smallclothes... with his hair in a messy bun on the top of his head… _god!_ He was hell bent on torturing me that day, I swear to god.”

Zevran watched her curiously, wondering how far into the story she would go. When she took another drink, he teased with a smirk, “And then what, Nyla?”

Wide eyed, she choked on her margarita, coughing and sputtering for a few moments, continuing when she caught her breath; she could not let him get away with this. “Well, long story short, I pushed him up against the wall, stripped him, and then blew him. In that order.”

Raucous laughter followed, and Zevran had no idea why he was so surprised she went there.

“Impossible to win with this one, I can tell already.” Anders put four shot glasses on the table, a bowl of sea salt, a bottle of tequila, a plate of limes and a box containing the Jenga game.

“It really isn’t.” Zevran shrugged. “Just have to know where the buttons are.”

“He knows where the buttons are.” Anders waggled his eyebrows and opened the box, plunking it on the table, and slowly pulling it away, leaving the tower ready for play. “I’ll go first, then Sketchbook Girl, then Leliana, and then Zevran. Counterclockwise.”

“Clockwise.” Leliana corrected.

“Thank you.” He grabbed a block. “‘Dealer’s Choice.’ This means I get to pick who takes a drink, Nyla.” He poured a half-shot and slid it to his left. “We're going to do half-shots. I don't want to kill Sketchbook Girl, I just want to see her wasted.”

“I know, could you imagine the mess?” Leliana cackled; Anders nodded emphatically. “I bet she’s a stripper.”

“Mmm. Alright. I see how it is.” Nyla tossed back her shot, chasing it with margarita. “Let’s do this.” She reached over and took a block. “It just says ‘date.’”

“You pick a date for the night. The date has to take a shot every time you do.” Anders spoke patiently.

“Anders.” Nyla smiled at him. “If I’m going down, you’re coming with me.”

Leliana looked at Zevran. Brief communication, quick pointing fingers, _I’ve got Anders, you get Nyla._ They nodded their agreement.

“For fucks sake you could have said it out loud.” Nyla sighed. “Leliana is your babysitter, Anders.”

“Oh I saw. They’re so stealthy!” He grinned, nodding to Zevran. “You’re turn, bro. By the way, your tiny girlfriend thinks she can drink me under the table.”

“I am _average_ height!” Nyla pressed a palm to her chest in incredulity, already feeling the alcohol.

“You are tiny.” Leliana sipped her margarita, her legs crossed, sitting upright and proper, ignoring that she missed her turn, and the order of operations was already completely fucked and they weren't even drunk yet.

“You stand tall and wear heels, Nyla, but you are small.” Zevran reached for a block, not yet drunk enough to cause a disaster. With a smirk, he looked at Nyla. “Youngest person drinks.”

“I’m not small, _you’re_ small!” Nyla glared at him.

“Si, part of Zevran’s charm,” he smiled at her.

Anders poured their drinks. “Cheers,” she spoke, chasing her shot with a sip of margarita, she chuckled, “Oh my god. This is a fucked up game.”

“Yes.” Leliana smirked, holding up her block. “Fresh meat.”

“OOHH! Who of us has had sex most recently!” Anders laughed hard, far too excited.

“Does oral count?” Nyla furrowed her brow and chewed her lip.

“Yep.” Anders slid her a shot.

“Zevran was there. Doing stuff... at the same time...” Nyla cleared her throat. “And don’t forget your shot too. Fucking… cat face on your shirt.”

“Oh nooo the worst insult!” Anders spoke in a high pitched voice, wiggling his fingers and rolling his eyes. He reached for a block. “Nose goes!” Everyone but Nyla immediately placed a finger on their nose.

“Fuck. I’m drinking again, aren’t I?” She sighed. “Don’t think I’ll forget this cheating. Cheers.” She took a shot with Anders. “Feelin’ good, honey?”

“Great! You, however, are slurring, and shouting.” Looking at his roommates, he smiled, “We have a drunk with no ability to modulate her voice. Prepare yourselves.”

“Am not shouting.” Nyla looked around at them. “Ah. I heard the slur. Leliana, all sober as fuck. This is crazy.” Nyla reached for a block. “Accent speak?”

“You pick an accent, and you have to speak with it for the rest of the game.” Leliana chuckled, pretty sure she knew what was about to happen.

“Perhaps I shall use the sexiest accent I know.” She mimicked Zevran, sitting back and crossing her arms, her lips in a subtle smirk. “Though, the possibility of giving myself spontaneous orgasms is real.”

Anders laughed to the point of falling out of his chair, Leliana lost good margarita through her nose, and Zevran palmed his face. “The instructions were to pick an accent, not pretend to be Zevran, no?”

“And if this is how I wish to play, then it should be okay, no?” She resumed smirking, and shook her hair, waving it off of her neck in a dramatic gesture. “Or is this turning you on as well, amor?”

 _“Stop!”_ Anders cackled from beneath the table. _“Stop! I can’t!”_

“I believe it is Leli’s turn?” Nyla purred, smoldering across the table at Zevran. His pursed lips and repressed laughter made Nyla want to try even harder. “Anders should come up from beneath the table, unless he is going to make himself useful down there, no?” Zevran cackled, and Nyla was excessively pleased with herself, even thrusting her fist into the air with a hissed _“Yesss!_ Boyfriend laughter!”

“OH MY GOD!” Anders barely managed to climb back into his chair, holding his stomach and catching his breath. “Stop!”

“I’m picking one.” Leliana’s voice was nasally, having spent the last few minutes blowing her nose, laughing hysterically and coughing. “Baby got back.” Anders handed her a shot. “Okay this is when I give a drink to whoever I think has the nicest ass.” She drank the shot immediately.

“She does that _every time!”_ Anders spoke over the laughter, “It never gets fucking old!”

“She is not wrong, no?” Nyla spoke through laughter and a hiccup, nodding at Anders.

“Nope! Zevran’s ass is too muscular for my taste, you have a chronic case of white-girl butt, and I just don’t have one.” He looked at Zevran, “Your turn, woodland prince.”

“Wha-” Nyla cackled and leaned toward him. “Excuse me? White-girl butt?”

“Kinda small, a little flat. It’s not really an insult until he says it.” Leliana pursed her lips at him. “Don’t give her an ass complex, Anders, we’re already convincing her she’s tiny, that’s enough.”

“She stopped doing the accent… Nyla, you have to take a drink now.” Anders waggled his eyebrows at her.

“So do you, tall asshole.” Nyla purred, leaning back and folding her arms across her chest. “And it would serve me to know _all_ the rules, in the future, no?”

“Do I act like this?” Zevran furrowed his brow at her playfully. “I do not say _no_ after every sentence.”

“It’s pretty close.” Leliana giggled. “A little exaggerated.”

“But not by much. Cheers, Sketchbook Girl.” Anders watched her, and they drank their tequila half-shots at the same time. “Nobody gives a fuck about these limes I cut up.” He took one and put it in his mouth.

Zevran reached for a block. “Moving violation.”

“Two for Zevran, none for us.” Anders looked at Nyla expectantly. “I’m guessing none for you either.”

Nyla spoke like Zevran, quirking an eyebrow. “Tell me the fucking rules, tall asshole.”

Zevran cackled gleefully, pointing at her; that was definitely him. “Very nice, amor.”

“One drink if you have had sex in a car, two if you have had sex in a moving car.” Leliana explained.

“Excuse… Zevran, I do not know exactly _how_ you had sex in a moving car… someone was watching you, no? Why do I wish to have the particulars of this? Fuck. No, I have not had sex in a car.” Nyla found it difficult to maintain the accent through the jealousy, turn-on, befuddlement and drunken slurring. When she looked around, Leliana was pointing at Zevran, laughing, and Anders was saying something about a dog house.

“Come now.” Zevran spoke, holding his shot glass, “Zevran’s girlfriend is crazy, but not that kind of crazy.” He drank, and put a lime in his mouth.

“Thank you, amor. Your faith in me is endearing.” Nyla nodded to him. “Tall asshole, it is your turn, no?”

“It’s _hilarious_ when you do that!” He reached for a block. “Never have I…” Leliana and Zevran held up 3 fingers. “Hold three fingers up, Sketchbook Girl, you’ll get it. Never have I ever done ecstasy. Nyla, you innocent little angel.” Nyla, the only one to not lower a finger. Anders paused for thought.

“Never have I ever masturbated in someone else's house. Everyone? NICE! Sketchbook girl is blushing and staring at Zevran do you see this? Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady,” he slurred playfully, pointing a lazy finger at her. “Okay, anyway... never have I ever had sex at work. Nobody?” He looked at Zevran, “Better get on that one, then. Okay, what will get Nyla to put those fingers down. Never have I ever... had an orgasm from only the sound of Zevran’s voice.”

 _“Shit.”_ Nyla giggle-snorted. “Leliana did you just lower a finger?”

“Yes, but I’m joking.” She smiled and raised her finger back up. “And you’re not.”

“A-fucking-mazing.” Anders laughed, “I can’t believe that’s even a thing. What would that be? Voice... fetish? Is there a word for that?”

Zevran shrugged, Nyla blushed and tried not to imagine Zevran’s sultry purr. “I believe it is called auralism, do not ask how I know this, cat-shirt. I am not here to get… kink shamed.”

“Moving on.” Anders bounced in his seat, “Getting Sketchbook Girl to lower more fingers, hmm. Never have I ever... smoked pot. Nyla, seriously? Never? What the fuck? ”

Leliana took the bottle from Anders and took over pouring shots, one for herself and Zevran.

 _“Really,_ Sketchbook girl? How sheltered were you?” Anders leaned on the table and squinted at her.

“I was _busy_ doing other things!” She answered defensively. “It just never came up. It’s not like I’m a no to it.”

“HA! You forgot the accent! Take another shot!” Ander cackled and pointed.

“I believe you must also take another shot.” Nyla slurred smugly.

 _“Fuck_ I keep forgetting that.” He drank with her. “I love and hate this game. Your turn.”

“It says for me to strip?” She looked around, confused. “That is a bit extreme.”

“Just one piece of clothing.” Zevran chimed in. “An earring or your necklace will suffice.”

“Ahh, rules are rules, amor. Jewelry is not clothing,” she purred in with her Spanish accent, standing up and grabbing the hem of her dress.

Several catcalls, Zevran not included, echoed through the kitchen.

“Called it!” Leliana did a victory dance in her chair. “She’s a stripper!”

“Nyla… do not…” Zevran sighed and chuckled, shaking his head. “My girlfriend gets naked when she is drunk, Leli... Leli... I both hate and love this.”

Leliana grabbed his shoulder and playfully shook him for a moment before pulling herself together. “Fucking _yes!_ Don’t stop there, Nyla!” Leliana laughed and whistled. “Garter belt! Yeah!”

“I bought it for my date.” Nyla’s accented slur was accompanied by a happy sigh as her dress hit the floor.

“Nice bra.” Anders nodded. “Zevran, your girlfriend is stacked.”

“Anders, please.” Zevran sighed, “Do not stare at my girlfriend’s rack.”

“I’m staring at her bra.” Anders, while having no significant attraction for Nyla, did have a penchant for tormenting Zevran. “It is a nice bra, don’t you think, Leli?”

“Lovely. Model it for us.” She whistled again.

Anders nodded emphatically, watching Zevran squirm in his periphery. “Yes, stand up and do a few turns.”

“Do not think I am averse to doing such a thing.” Nyla chuckled and slurred in a poorly mimicked accent, drinking a melted margarita. “I’m literally ten minutes from doing that without provocation.”

“Holy shit you’re loud.” Anders furrowed his brow at her.

“Quit harassing Nyla and pick a block.” Zevran palmed his face. “Please.”

Leliana carefully removed a piece. “Everyone drinks!” Pouring four shots, they clinked their glasses together, and drank.

Zevran reached for the tower, carefully grabbing one and knocking out another. “Fuck. Now I must do both.” He smiled at Nyla. “Top swap.” He pulled off his shirt and held it out to Nyla; she didn’t take the shirt, simply sat there stunned and staring at his bare torso.

“No that’s not how it works.” Leliana giggled, “A top for a top, not a shirt for a shirt. So-”

“Oh, I have to take my bra off? A tragedy.” Nyla reached behind herself.

“Nonono, Sketchbook Girl, I’m pretty sure you might regret that one later.” Anders spoke quickly. “Let’s not.”

“Rules are rules.” Leliana shrugged. “Might as well quit if we’re not going to follow the rules.”

“Zevran forfeits.” He pointed at Nyla’s dress splayed out on the kitchen floor, “Now we can put our clothes back on.”

“Spoilsport.” Nyla’s bra unhooked, and she slid it off her arms, throwing it at him.

“I almost saw Sketchbook Girl’s tits!” Anders had his eyes covered with his hands the moment he saw her going for it.

“They’re nice!” Leliana was having difficulty staying in her chair, laughing. “Nyla strips! I want to keep her! Zevran! Can I keep her?”

“No, Leli I saw her first.” Zevran smiled, completely giving up on trying to rescue sober Nyla. “Fine. Nyla’s tits are out. Might as well continue.”

Standing up, Nyla slipped on Zevran’s dark blue button up. “It is a little tight across the chest.” She undid a few buttons so she didn’t pop them off the shirt.

“Same.” Zevran laughed, sliding bra straps up his shoulders. “Little tight over the shoulders. You may look now, Anders.”

The laughter that occurred among the party shook the table and sent the wavering tower crashing down, blocks flying everywhere.

“Game over!” Nyla jumped up, raising her arms triumphantly. “Good game! Yes! I need to cuddle something!”

“Nyla, put your dress back on, please.” Zevran pressed his fist against his pursed lips. Her breasts were about to pop those buttons, her garter belt was showing beneath the length of the deep blue shirt complementing her eyes, and it was killing him. _Curves, bosom, eyes, garter belt, those long fucking legs… uuuughh!_

“Alright but I’m not putting the bra back on.” She pulled the shirt off over her head.

“Dammit, Sketchbook Girl!” Anders covered his eyes again. “Why do I have to work so hard to protect your honor! I mean, it’s _your_ honor! Jesus Christ!”

“Oh please, you innocent little fawn.” She slipped her dress over her head. “I’m decent, and Zevran is still wearing my bra.”

“It is uncomfortable and itchy, you poor women.” Zevran fumbled behind his back. “Someone help Zevran out of his girlfriend’s bra.” Anders reached over and undid it with a quick snap of his fingers. “Thank you. I do not usually have this kind of trouble freeing one from a bra.”

With an hand on Zevran’s shoulder and an earnest gaze Anders spoke, “Anytime you need help getting out of Sketchbook Girl’s bra, I am here for you, bro.”

“Anders,” Nyla slurred, “Cat-face-shirt, I have told you like a million times, I don’t draw, and you keep calling me Sketchbook Girl. It doesn’t even make _sense._ Why are you still calling me that?”

“Would you lower your voice, by like, a million decibels?” Anders tried changing the subject, seeing Zevran cringe.

“Sorry.” She whispered. “Go on then.”

“I don’t know... you had that book with you… and um, you were at the table… it was… in your hand… and Zevran… you know… Zev was... in the kitchen… It’s too cute, the name just stuck, okay _this is too much fucking pressure!”_ Anders pressed his palms on his eyes.

“Woah, woah, calm your tits, cat-shirt-face.” Nyla chuckled, rubbing his back for a moment, her eyes on Zevran’s shirtless form, “I get it. Make us more margaritas.”

“Give yourself a minute to let the tequila hit you, and then we’ll decide.” Anders spoke seriously, and his roommates gasped.

“Anders is babysitting Nyla.” Leliana stared at them in awe, and then looked at Zevran.

“He cannot even moderate _himself."_ Zevran clung to Leliana in exaggerated awe.

“But she’s so tiny and I provoked the drinking challenge and she’s… _so tiny!”_ He stood up and squeezed her, the top of Nyla’s head barely reaching his chest.

 _“I’m not fucking tiny!”_ She raged, unable to resist a hug, she wrapped her arms around him.

“It’s like getting hissed at by a kitten!” Anders giggled and pet her head.

_“Stop petting me!”_

“Okay, Zevran wants his kitten back.” Stumbling a little Zevran picked her up, threw her over his shoulder and stole her away to the living room.

“No… wait… you can’t just-” Nyla tried to protest as Zevran flopped onto the wraparound couch with her, snuggling up in the corner with her on his lap. “You can’t just pick me up and put me wherever you- oh my god, you were right. They were playing Mario Kart.”

“Margarita Mario Kart night.” Anders shrugged and plopped on the couch on his stomach to face them. “When we’re not busy we do this sometimes.”

“That’s amazing!” Nyla cackled.

“Lower your voice a little.” Anders spoke patiently.

“Like this?”

“That’s… the exact same, Sketchbook Girl.”

Pausing for breath, Nyla cleared her throat, sighed, and tried again. “Okay, this is my normal voice.”

“I give up.” Anders laughed and looked around the room. “Leliana what are you doing? I’m going to go get her.”

“Zev, am I really that loud?”

“Yes, amor. You are quite loud.”

“What about now?”  
  
“Exact same as before.”

“Now you’re both fucking with me.” Nyla giggled.

“Try whispering.”

“Like this?” Nyla whispered.

“Okay, yes. Now, try speaking only a little louder than your whisper.”

“Is this good?”

“No! No you’re loud as fuck again, Nyla.” Zevran chuckled, pulling her more snugly against him. “Try again, starting from whisper.”

“Good god, Zevran, just let her talk loud.” Leliana sat on the couch. “Where’s Anders?”

“Went to find you.” Zevran shrugged.

“Weird.” Leliana put her drink on the end table. “I better go make sure he’s okay.”

“Okay, how about now.”

“Still very loud, Nyla. I wonder how this is confusing for you?”

“I don’t feel confused, other than people just keep calling me loud. How about now?”

“No, darling. Try again, starting from whisper.”

Anders walked in and flopped on the couch with a pout, laying on his back. “I couldn’t find her. Sketchbook Girl is not going to learn, Zev. You can stop trying to teach her.”

“This is amazing. How are they passing each other like this?” Nyla cackled. “GOD they are so cute! Why do you suppose they aren’t dating after all this time?”

“There you are.” Leliana sighed with obvious relief. “Are you teleporting around the house again?”

“Portals, this time!” Anders moved his legs, Leliana sat, and he rested them on her lap. “Stop shipping us.”

“I do not know.” Zevran mused. “I think perhaps they are afraid of risking a friendship they value.”

“Ah. Yes.” Nyla turned sideways in Zevran’s lap to face Leliana and Anders, leaning her cheek against his bare chest. “I can imagine Leliana has been burned before, hurt very deeply. She’s guarded.”

“We’re right here.” Leliana chuckled nervously. “It would be appropriate if you shipped us this hard when we weren't here. And most appropriate if you didn't ship us at all.”

“Intimacy issues.” Zevran nodded, “On both of their parts.”

“Oh for sure.” Nyla sighed, nuzzling her cheek against his smooth skin. “Do you suppose they are still single and not seeing other people because they’re secretly shipping themselves?”

“I see people!” Anders spoke up.

“Yes, you see idiots.” Leliana laughed.

“Oh, interesting.” Nyla sat up excitedly, and Zevran stopped her from tumbling off of his lap. “He sees idiots?”

“There was that one girl… her shoes were consistently an embarrassment to shoes. She came in here wearing _flip flops!_ ”

“NO!” Nyla gasped.

“I know! More than once! And they weren’t the same flip flops either. She had a _collection! Ugh!_ And there was that guy, what was his name… who cares. He was needy and always spending the night. Ugh.” Leliana sipped her drink. “He wore nice shoes though.”

“Oh! Anders is bi like Zevran!” Nyla interjected. “Does that bother you?”

“I’m also bi.” Leliana nodded. “It doesn’t bother me one bit that Anders is also bi, because I get what that means.”

“What does being bisexual mean to you?” Nyla asked, and Zevran jiggled beneath her with withheld laughter, resting his forehead on his sweet girlfriend’s shoulder. “I’m straight so I don't know what that would be like.”

“Just because they’re in a straight relationship, it doesn’t take their bisexuality away. And just because a person likes both genders, it doesn’t mean they have to have both genders.”

“So he’s loyal?” Nyla bit her lip.

“Yes. He’s never fucked around on anyone.”

“That’s true. It just feels wrong.” Anders muttered.

“An excellent attribute I value highly.” Nyla nodded. “That’s a deal breaker for me.”

“Yes! Me too!” Leliana nodded.

“Zevran, make this stop. It's getting confusing!” Anders looked up at him, pleading. “Sketchbook Girl, you can stop now.”

“Stop what?” Nyla slurred waving a drunken hand at him dismissively, “I’m trying to talk to Leliana, Tall Asshole. The thing I value most, apart from loyalty, is having my partner as my best friend.”

“I value that, too. Very much. I hope I have that someday.” Leliana agreed enthusiastically. “Is that what you have with Zevran?”

Nyla paused for thought, a relaxed smile graced her lips as she looked at him. Golden-brown eyes, soft and familiar, he returned her smile. “Yes. It makes me happy to think about.”

“That’s sweet. That’s exactly what I want someday.” Anders spoke up. “You two are so perfect for each other. And, see, it's okay that we ship you because you're in a romantic relationship already.”

“Alistair was my best friend, too. I seem to have a lot of luck forming romances with men I deeply respect and have curiosity for and… really deep connections. I want to feel connected in all the ways. One man I can bond with and rely on in every way. Without, you know… making him overextend himself. I’m paranoid about that.”

“It makes her hide her feelings, this tendency to believe she is too much.” Zevran sighed and sat up straight. “I do not like it.”

“Nyla? Hiding feelings?” Leliana cackled. “When?”

“Lots of times. I don’t believe she knows I am noticing.” Zevran shrugged, “I get it out of her sometimes, but I back off when she is near crying. It is not my intent to torment, I just wish to know her.”

“Talking about me like I’m not right here,” Nyla muttered.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Anders pointed at her and chuckled, “and really, it’s hard to miss the _loudest person in the world.”_

“Alistair? Is that one of your exes?” Leliana spoke, sipping idly on her drink.

“The only ex. High school sweetheart.” She leaned against Zevran, his hands caressing her back and shoulders. “We were set to graduate college at the same time. Our um... wedding was planned and... can I have a margarita now?”

“Sure.” Anders spoke, jumping up from the couch. “Just stop yelling all this really epic, sad shit.”

“Wait… they know about...?” Nyla swallowed. _I’m not crying here, right now, while I’m drunk. I am absolutely not that person._

“My fault.” Zevran spoke softly, stroking her hair and tucking it behind her ears. “I wished for them to know you, too.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Leliana got up and sat closer to them.

“I’m not!” Nyla sat up abruptly, and Zevran caught her from tipping off the couch again. “I’m fine. I’m drinking with friends, my life is different, it’s all in the past, I’m totally good.”

“But you sound upset as fuck.” Anders called from the kitchen over the sound of the blender. “How long in the past?”

“Liiiike one year, ten months and eleven days.” Nyla turned toward Zevran and wrapped her arms and legs around him. He sighed, squeezing her close.

“Stop yelling sad shit, Sketchbook Girl.” Anders came in and held out a drink to her. “I hate to interrupt the most disgustingly cute cuddles I have ever seen in my life, but I made you a drink. And yours is here on the table, Leli, whenever you want it.”

Nyla reluctantly pulled away from Zevran and turned around, “You… you… _look at this tiny umbrella in my drink!”_

“Tiny, like you.”

 _“I’m not-”_ Nyla raged, but Anders was already skipping toward the kitchen to make more margaritas. _“Anders!_ I’ve never hit anyone in my _life_ and I have the sudden urge to.”

“You know-” Leliana hiccuped, “oh, scuse me.” She leaned toward them with an exaggerated slur, “I want to ask you a thing.”

“Madam," Nyla giggled, "you are drunk.”

“And _you_ are shouting.” Leliana pointed a playful finger and booped Nyla’s nose. “I’m trying to ask a question. Earlier, when you came down here it looked like you both had been crying. And I was like, ‘did they break up orrr _what_ the hell is going on here?’”

“We were bonding.” Zevran spoke, not willing to wait to see how far Nyla would go with her sharing.

“That resulted in lots of tears.” Nyla nodded. “Everything is fine, though. No real fights or anything.”

“Well good because if you broke up, I wouldn’t know _who_ to destroy at this point. One of my dearest friends of six years, almost seven, or… hm, no I know exactly who I would destroy. Nevermind!”

“That’s…” Nyla sighed and sipped her drink, “That’s insane, Leliana. No pressure, Zev, but if we break up, I’m going to be destroyed.”

“Pfff.” Zevran chuckled, “I am certain Nyla is a keeper.”

Nyla squealed, Leliana rolled off the couch and stayed there, lying on her back and resting her legs on the cushions. “Zevran Arainai, I _never_ thought I would ever hear those words out of your mouth!”

Nyla turned her head to look at him. “Exactly how intoxicated are you? And don’t make me make you get up and walk, I’m really comfortable.”

“I often cannot tell how drunk I am until I am walking, if I am being honest.” Zevran shrugged. “Currently, I am waiting for Anders to barge in here and start blasting The Cure.”

“Oh good idea!” Leliana hopped up and went for the stereo. Music played. Her hips moved, she snapped her fingers, and prowled around the room with dramatic arm gestures. “His favorite song. You’re going to love his spicy shimmy.”

“You’re kidding me. Love Cats? _I love this song!_ ” Nyla’s giggles were uncontrollable as a joyful shout carried from the kitchen over the sound of the blender. “Anders is dancing his way in here with two margaritas, Zev. Zevran why is this happening? _Anders is a belly dancer?!”_ Nyla squealed with joy and put her drink down so she could get up and dance.

Zevran watched them contentedly from his spot on the couch; if he tried to do anything else, someone would likely get hurt.

Leliana finally had a chance to make her death threats, Anders had a chance to be the responsible party for once, his girlfriend got on famously with his best friends, and he learned she is the loudest, most obnoxious drunk he had ever known in his life.

They danced to Love Cats in the living room, flashes of his girlfriend’s garter belt tantalized him and he was going to enthusiastically remove it later- _or leave it on,_ he smiled; everything was perfect.

* * *

 

Another bit of adorable brilliance made by [@kuuderecupcake!](http://kuuderecupcake.tumblr.com/)


	12. Chapter 12

Zevran lay still, watching her as she slept. A single ray of sun shone on her scarred thigh, the blankets bunched around her midsection, which is what happened every time Nyla stole the blankets. Zevran smiled, reaching out and running a gentle hand along her arm; at least when he stole the blankets, he was using them.

He wanted to draw her, but he didn’t want to pull his eyes away; it wasn’t as if he could do the scene any justice. It was already so perfectly embedded in his memory, he could do it later.

“HHnnghh… holy shit.” Nyla pulled a pillow over her head, and whined pitifully. “Something is wrong with my everything.”

“I suspected you might wake up feeling like hell.” He smiled sympathetically.

“Oh my god, please, babe, not so loud.” She squinted at him from beneath the pillow. “I think I might be hungover.”

“You think?” He chuckled, pulling her close.

“I’m pretty sure. I usually just wake up really thirsty. Now I’m thirsty and my entire face is killing me. My skin is buzzing. I think I might be still intoxicated.”

“Yes, sounds like a hangover.”

“Can you make it less bright in here?”

“I cannot turn off the sun, and the curtains are closed.”

“Fuck me.”

“You are in no shape for-”

“Zevran…” Nyla cackled, “Seriously… shhh.”

He moved closer to her, caressing her bare back, pleased to have his naked girlfriend waking in his bed, smiling in memory of his indecision of whether or not to remove the garter belt; he had chosen wisely. “Never a hangover, never smoked weed, never tried ecstasy. So innocent!”

“How do you know?” Nyla yawned and her temples throbbed. “Uggh.”

“Jenga last night? The ‘have you never’ game?”

“Oh lord.” Nyla groaned. “Oh no. What else am I forgetting?”

“You took your clothes off, I was wearing your bra for a few minutes-”

“That was hilarious.” Nyla giggled. “Anders swore an oath to free you if you ever got trapped in my bra again.”

“Nyla… your tits were out.”

“Oh. Shit.” She sighed. “Oh my god. Never. Again. I'm never drinking again.”

“I say that when I wake up hungover, as well.” Zevran laughed, Nyla cringed at the volume of his voice. “Sorry, amor.”

“My entire life hurts. Ohhh my god.” Nyla sighed and reached for the bottled water. “I freaked Anders out so much. Poor little shit.” Opening the water, she drank nearly all of it. “Protecting my honor,” she spoke with a groan. “You weren’t wearing a shirt all night, he didn’t avert his eyes from you. I should be able to shamelessly strip if I want to. You know, tits should not be this taboo.”

“I am inclined to believe he averted his eyes for my benefit.”

“Oh! Are you feeling possessive?”

“My girlfriend, my girlfriend’s breasts… yes. I feel possessive. I am no cheat, and I don’t expect anything less from you.”

“Okay first, I really wish I hadn’t exposed myself like that in front of your friends while they were clearly uncomfortable. Well, Anders was, anyway. And while I really like that standard, I want you to know I rather enjoy nude beaches. I can comfortably navigate a boundary around that.”

“You go to nude beaches?”

“Well, I did until I got scarred. After you finish my tattoo, then I can go again.”

“If you wish to go to a nude beach, I wish to go with you. Tattoo looks good, how about I have reception work you in next week?”

“Why don’t you call her Emily?”

“Habit, because we know four Emilies. I will text her now.”

 

_Reception_  
_Emily_  
_Emily_  
_Emi_  
_Em_  
_E_

_Hehehe what Zev_

_Work in a late appointment for my girlfriend next week?_

  
_Ur wat?_

  
_Girlfriend._

_  
Omg. I’m telling Dorian._

  
_I know. Please don’t forget the appointment._

_We have a cancellation I think, no prob._  
_omg zev has a gf - bet i know who it is_  
_Sorry wrong text window thing_

_  
Yes it’s the scarred girl with the dragon._

  
_Called it, ty._  
_Ok he said he knew because you’re blowing up instagram with your selfies #girlfriend_  
_Also, thurs at 430_

 

*******

 

_Nyla_

_Zev, darling, I’m here now._

_I know, I just took a picture of you texting me._

  
She looked up, giggled and smiled. Coming toward her, Zevran smirked, reached out, and Nyla took his hand.

“Were you just texting each other?” Emily Laughed, her long dark hair splayed out on the glass counter as she leaned over to look at Zevran.

“Yes!” Nyla smiled, “He has his hair in a bun!”

“I know, right?!” Emily laughed, “Hey, Zevbun, since your hashtag-girlfriend is here, maybe I should do us all a favor and leave early.”

“You may leave at six.” He winked at her and linked his girlfriend’s arm with his. “Please remember to turn on the answering machine.”

“Yesss!” Emily withdrew her phone and began frantically tapping away.

Escorting Nyla to his workspace, it felt dreamy to be with her again after four days of being apart. So soft and pretty, smelling so good, wearing no makeup, and there was a distinct absence of loneliness behind her eyes; his girlfriend’s smile washed away a very long day of waiting for her.

“I missed you.” Nyla spoke softly as they entered his office, and his response was to pin her against the wall and barrage her with kisses.

“Hola, amor,” he whispered against her lips, and she shuddered. “Eaten today?”

“Tacos.” She whispered, her eyes closed and head leaned back against the wall as his lips brushed her neck.

“Any drugs or alcohol today?” His hand lazily caressed her cheek, thumb drawing a gentle line along her jaw.

Nyla swallowed and licked her lips. “Nothing but Tylenol.”

“Drink lots of water?” He bit his lip as her hands ran along his back, pulling him closer.

“I have,” she replied softly.

“Are you ready to finish this, amor?”

“Oh yes.” Nyla’s eyes popped open in excitement and trepidation. Silent, nervous giggles caught her as his nose tenderly brushed against hers. “Oh my god I’m so nervous. It’s going to hurt a lot isn’t it? And then it’ll burn. Fuck.”

“No. It will be easier this time.” Zevran gave her a soft smile. “And afterward we will go to my place where I have tacos waiting. You will get to see Anders and Leli, because I asked them to be there for you with cheesecake and tea. Then we will sit on the rooftop, and when you are ready we will crawl into my bed and I will bury my face between your thighs until you scream my name. Afterward I will massage you until you drift off to sleep, relaxed and without pain.”  

Speechless, she melted into him, her face buried in his neck, she wanted to cry, he held her close. “Zevran… Too god damn sweet.”

“Not done being sweet yet.” He took her hand and lead her to the chair, she sat back comfortably. “Something for you to hold.” He picked up a stuffed dragon from hidden behind the chair and handed it to her. He motioned to the bouquet of roses in a vase on the counter. “Something beautiful for you to look at. And one more thing.” Removing his phone from his pocket, Zevran plugged it into his speakers. “Do you have a song playing in your mind, amor?”

“American Money. By Borns.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Excuse me… I’m sorry.” She couldn’t help it, as she hiccupped with repressed tears. He sat next to her and pulled her close.

“I know how big this is for you.” Zevran rested a comforting hand on the back of her head, his fingers brushing through her silky-soft hair. “So you can let go and move forward.”

“Yes.” She sniffled, smiling and backing away to look at him. “I can’t believe it’s finally happening… and that it’s _you.”_

With a chuckle, he brushed her damp cheek with the backs of his fingers. “That is wild, no?”

“Very.” she whispered with a wide smile.

“Let’s do it.” He purred and nibbled her lip. “Take off your panties.”

“I’m not wearing any.” Nyla smirked, laid back and lifted her skirt to expose her thigh.

“Awesome.” He snapped on some rubber gloves and prepared to tattoo his girlfriend. _Muse. Lover. Girlfriend. Canvas._ Running his hand along along her thigh, it felt sweet, as he always avoided touching her this way. Wary of making her feel self conscious about it, he always wanted her attention to stay on him and not on something wholly unpleasant. All the same, he was curious, wanted to feel this part of her with his bare hand; maybe someday. Washing her with soap and warm water, he asked “Still scared?”

“Not anymore.” Her eyes drifted from the red roses, to the gorgeous man preparing to tattoo her. “Right now I just feel loved.”

“Ooh. Be careful, going there.” Zevran smirked, settling in close to her.

“Oh, I am.” Nyla smiled and held her stuffed dragon close as the needle touched her skin. “The sweetness you have shown, feels so sweet it hurts. So thoughtful. I’m baffled trying to figure out how I am.... worthy of all this.”

“Worthy?” He furrowed his brow and bit his lip. “Say more.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

“I like doing things for you. I like our romance. I take us very seriously. I think about you constantly. Always-” _drawing you, painting you._ “...thinking of you.”

“I am doing something right then?” She asked with seriousness, and he responded with an agreeable hum. “What exactly am I doing right?”

Baffled, he stopped working to look up at her. “You do not know?”

“I’m not entirely clueless, I just want to give you more. I want to know what your language of love is, so I can speak it more fluently.” When he went back to work, Nyla cringed a little and hugged her dragon close.

“That what you just did appeals to me, but I can’t exactly put words to it. You care about things I would not think of.” With a breathy chuckle and a few moments of thought, he glanced up at her, “Alright, amor, I don’t quite understand. What does it mean, language of love?”

“Some people feel especially loved when they receive gifts, or favors, or attention, touch, praise. Stuff like that.”

“Mmm. I think I understand. I can say I feel closest to you when you are listening to me, and I can feel your care. I feel appreciated and valued as a person.” He glanced up at her, to see if she was okay. Her face seemed peaceful, concentrating, and he proceeded tattooing her; it was fun. “And I can say without a doubt, that last Friday night, I had never felt so appreciated before, and my life in general feels… easier. Gentler. I am still grateful.”

“What are you grateful for? My listening? My attention?”  
  
“All of these things, and your acceptance. You... held me when I thought you would walk away. I had never felt the hurt so keenly, never had shown it to anyone, never felt so exposed. My trust for you since then has grown exponentially.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Reaching toward him, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

Glancing at her with a chuckle and a smile he teased, “The horror on your own face that first time.”

Nyla laughed, resting her cheek against her plush dragon, smiled as the song started over. “Don’t pick on me. I almost died.”

“Drama.” Zevran smiled, wiping blood and ink from her skin. “Let me know if you wish me to change the song.”

They were silent for a while, Zevran keeping his attention on his work, and on her. He caught her clenching her jaw a few times, sometimes Nyla watched his busy hands, sometimes she stared at her flowers, sometimes stared at his hair, of course. Zevran reminded her to breathe, and to drink her water.

“Nyla?” He began gently, wanting to approach the subject gently, she responded with an inquisitive hum. “Saturday is the anniversary. ”

“You remembered?” She felt a little sick, wished he didn’t know; if he hadn’t deduced it on his own, she wouldn’t have told him.  

“Yes… will you spend that day with me, instead of alone? If you are not working.”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” He stopped tattooing and looked up at her. “If you are working, or if you will spend the day?”

“Either. I don’t want to think about it right now. Will you ask me later?”

She seemed so far away from him, and he imagined being alone that day would be painful; he did not want that for her when beautiful things were possible. “How about I wait for you to come to me, with an agreement that you at least check in with me at 3pm on Saturday and tell me how you are feeling.”

“If we haven’t texted each other a thousand times by then, sure I will.” Nyla smiled pushing Saturday from her mind.

“Is it typically a hard day for you?”

“This is only the second, the first anniversary wasn’t easy. That was the day I told Fergus I wanted to leave Orange County; he thought I wasn’t ready, so I left sooner than I had planned as a fuck you.” She chuckled sadly at the memory, “God I am such a bitch. I guess I’ll see how this one is… my therapist isn’t in office on Saturdays. But… I’ll have my finished tattoo, and I have good feelings about it.”

“You have friends, too.” Zevran reminded her, regretting his gloved hands, wishing he could touch her. He resumed his work.

“That is true, but when I hurt like that...” She sighed and closed her eyes. “It’s probably best I stay alone. Nobody wants to watch a grown woman sob like a child.”

“Okay, wait.” He sat up and put his needle down. “Nyla, where the hell did you learn that?”

Nyla tilted her head at him, “Societal norms?”

“But… _nobody?_ How is it okay for me to sob like a child in front of you, when the inverse is not also true? What am I supposed to imagine you think of me?”

“No babe, it doesn’t mean _that_.” She bit her lip and swallowed, “I wouldn’t change a thing. I wanted to be there for you and hold you and I think tears are a good thing, to let it all out.”

“But not for you.”

“No. Not for me.”

“Painful double standard, amor.”

“It’s not a double standard… the humiliation I feel when I let it all out makes it really bad for me.”

“Well…” Zevran sighed and looked closely at her thigh. “I need you to lay all the way back.”

“Shit. This part hurt a lot last time.”

“If it becomes too much, we can take a break.” He settled his arm between her thighs, and he began working at her hip, ridges and bumps slowed him down, but he worked as quickly as he could. “If it ever comes up, I want you to know it is safe to show me your tears, without apology.”  

“Where did you learn to be that way, Zev? So comfortable being with the upset of others.” After a few moments of silence she added, “That’s not a typical way to be.”

“I find that I like my capacity to do so. It is refreshing to see one be… vulnerable. I do not like this societal norm of holding feelings as if we should all always be happy and nothing else, even though I find myself conforming to it. People actually believe I am unfazeable and I prefer it that way. _You_ know I am not completely unfazeable because I trust you enough to allow you to see that.”

“It’s about trust, isn’t it?” She tried to focus on anything but the needle at her skin. “If I don’t show you my world, especially after you showed me yours, it’s as if I don’t trust you.”

“Remember to breathe.” He could feel the tension in her body from the pain and he felt a strong desire to make it stop, meanwhile causing it; it was confusing, a little frustrating. “Yes, Nyla. It is about trust. I believe this is closer to my language of love than anything. Trusting me. What about you? Your language of love.”

“I don’t know anymore. I’m still learning. So far it seems to be quality time and… I don’t know anymore. I spent the past two years generally alone. It seems like everything you do feels special. Bringing me flowers and tacos, recruiting your friends for moral support for _me._ It might sound sad but… everything you do makes me feel special. Any attention I get at all feels… more than I deserve.”

“I understand this feeling.” Zevran sighed, feeling sad for her; for both of them. “I sequestered myself for a time after Rinna, and leaving my family behind. I did not even say goodbye because I was afraid if I went to them they would be hurt, paranoid that my phone could be traced back to them… After losing so much, it took a few years for me to really let other people close.”

“You had to let go of your family? To protect them?” She laid a hand on his cheek and he looked up at her. “You haven’t even called them since you left?”

“No. It is a sore spot for me, I do not wish to discuss it here.”

“Do you miss them?”

 _“Yes,_ Nyla, I miss them terribly. I said I do not wish to discuss it here. It is a sore spot for me,” Zevran insisted, hurt in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t meaning to…” she stroked his cheek lovingly. “I was just thinking about Fergus and how I don’t miss him. I imagine there’s something wrong with me, and I was seeking data.”

“I see. Sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s alright, darling.”

Biting his lip, he rested a gentle hand where her thigh met her heat. A practical move, exaggerated by a desire to touch. “Mmm. You are very pretty, you know? With makeup. Without.” He shifted his weight to take pressure off of his erection. “Hair up or down.”

“Eyeliner streaking down my cheeks.” Nyla teased with a shy smile.

“Yes, even then.” He chuckled, tilting his head and surveying his work. “Shading is done. Time for another color, amor. Need a break?”

“Nope.” Nyla smiled and looked at her thigh. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“I have a question. A point of curiosity.” He watched her face for a reaction. “Ever want kids?”

“Nooooooo…” Nyla spoke immediately, drawing out the word until she ran out of wind. “Nope.”

“Wow.” Zevran sat stock still, looked up at her with a cringe. “Wow.”

“Oh no. You want kids.”  
  
“Yes, Nyla. I want several of them. At least five. I’m thinking three girls and two boys, ideally all of them one year apart.”

“Oh jesus. You’ve really thought this one out.” She wanted to melt into the chair; of all the answers she had anticipated, this was the worst. Lost in a vision of herself surrounded by four screaming children, one on her hip, one on the way... _I could be playing video games, writing, going out dancing, but no_ \- Nyla shook her head. “Yikes.”

“I did not know you could become more pale.” He smirked, resuming his work, shaking his head with a laugh and a sigh. “Nyla.”

“You… you’re joking.” Her arms went slack from sheer relief. “I… believed every word. Oh my god.”

“The abject horror in your face. It was awesome.” Wisps of hair tickled his cheeks and he tried sweeping them away with his wrist. Looking toward her, she tucked it behind his ears for him. “Gracias, amor.”

“So now that you have given me a fucking stroke, what is your _actual_ answer?”

“I do not wish to have the responsibility, however,” Zevran chuckled at her wary gaze, “when I imagine holding my own child, I feel things. I like to imagine a girl, cradling her, soothing her, dressing her in gender neutral clothing to irritate others. I like to think about it, but I have no significant draw toward this vision.”

“Zevran, that _sounds_ like a significant draw.”

“Hmm.” Zevran bit his lip and furrowed his brow. “Perhaps it does, but when I imagine not having it, I feel no sadness.”

“Not yet you don’t.” Nyla shook her head and hid behind her dragon. “Oh god. Future Zevran with baby fever. I can’t wait.”

“Yes. Then Zevran will coerce you into having his daughter.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Nyla rolled her eyes, “Dammit, you’re fucking with me.”  

“Mmm hmm.” He chuckled. “It’s too easy. Nyla’s brain scrambles when she discusses babies.”

“You think it’s so funny. I’m going to be dry for the rest of my life.”

Smoldering at her, smirking, he purred, “Ohhh, you think so, mi amore?” He pulled off his gloves and moved toward her.

“I'm going to let that one slide.” she cleared her throat and slid back in the chair. “And you have already proven me wrong.”

Climbing over her, Zevran slid onto the chair next to her, he lay on his side, draped her legs over his folded knees, wrapping her in his arms. With a contented sigh, he breathed in the familiar smell of her shampoo, her perfume, scents that were distinctly Nyla. “Missed you.”

“Did you just seduce me into cuddling?” Nyla smiled and ran her fingertips over his face.

Catching her finger between his teeth he spoke, “Yeth.”

“You’re adorable.” She basked in his play, the ease of being with him. “And I think I get you.”

Letting go of her finger he asked curiously, “You think?”

“Yes. Your nature is so inherently flirtatious you can’t approach physical touch without it.”

“No, Nyla, I am a hugger, and my hugging is not sexual in nature.”

“I meant with me.” Nyla craned her neck to meet his thoughtful stare. “It’s an intimacy barrier. A way for you to get what you need in a way that you know to be safe. So you don’t have to be vulnerable.”

Closing his eyes, he thought for a few moments and it occurred as true. An intimacy barrier; it felt wrong, he felt sad.

“Hey.” Cupping his cheek, she waited for him to open his eyes. “There's nothing wrong with you, love. It’s normal to have ways of shying away from vulnerability. I bet if you thought hard enough you could point at my intimacy barriers too.”

“You refuse to openly share your sadness for fear of pushing people away.” He smiled when she nodded, and he felt better for it, but his desire to change, to pull down barriers, was strong. Meeting her eyes with seriousness, he felt shy and decided to be brave, like his Nyla. “Will you hold me?”

“I would love to.” Turning a little more toward him, she wrapped an arm over his shoulder. “Like this?”   

“No, amor. More like…” he lifted his body a little. “One arm beneath, yes like that. Other arm around me, but beneath my arm. Yes. Your cheek against my shoulder. Okay now your legs around my top leg.” Pressing kisses on her forehead, he sighed and went slack. “Mm hmm,” he grumbled contentedly. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“Perfect. I insist you orchestrate all future cuddling,” she sighed happily as his fingers brushed lazily through her hair.

“That looks fun.” Emily poked her head in the doorway. “Taking a break?”

“Yes, taking off?” Zevran and Nyla shifted to look at her.

“Yeah. I just wanted to remind you to lock the gate on your way out. You forgot, last time. And…” Emily pulled out her phone and took a picture. “Zevran hard at work. This one is going on the wall.”

“Alright. I will remember this at your next yearly review.” Zevran responded with a good natured chuckle.

“Sure you will.” Emily spoke wryly. “Have a good night.”

“Night.” They responded to her, and she was gone. They waited to hear the bell on the front door.

“Is she really going to put that picture on the wall?”

“Yes. No big deal. I am probably going to get teased about hashtag-girlfriend, and incredulous statements about Zevran being a cuddler. It’s all in good fun. Zevran has no shame.”

“Do they really find it so surprising that you would have a girlfriend?” Nyla kissed his lips over and over.

“Didn’t you find it to be an impossibility at one time, amor?” He returned her kisses eagerly, fingers in her hair, one hand on her ass pulling her closer. “Did you forget already? Unobtainable hotness? Detached, aloof, snobby...”

“I was wrong.” Nyla whispered, pressing her mouth full against his, initiating a mutual satisfied sigh.

“We should… mmm... continue with the tattoo.” Zevran pulled away from her eager touch and kisses with much effort. “How is your leg?”

“You know, it does burn but…” Nyla cleared her throat and looked away from his probing eyes. “It’s not so bad with you... nearby.”

“Shy, Nyla?” Zevran felt himself blushing as he snapped on his rubber gloves. “You don’t want to overburden me and scare me away?”

“Exactly.”  

“Nyla, I challenge you to try to overburden me.” He sat down on his stool and prepared to work.

Picking up her plush dragon, she idly played with its wings, biting her lip. “I’ll consider it.”

“Good. You ready, amor?” He asked with a testing buzz of his needle.

“Yes.”

“This is fun for me, when I am not worrying myself of the pain it causes you.” He positioned himself to begin.

“See? That right there is precisely why I don’t want to burden you. Now if I let my pain be known, I’m taking away your fun.”

“That is not what I mean, Nyla.” Zevran argued, tilting his head and furrowing his brow at her. “Do you _really_ prefer I have fun while remaining ignorant to your feelings?”

She shook her head, trying to wrap her brain around that he just shifted her entire perspective. “No.”

“Neither do I, amor. I am starting now.”

“I want you to have fun, Zevran.” She reached over and tucked stray strands of hair behind his ears.

“Thank you.” He spoke, smiling as he pressed the needle against her skin. “And all I ask in return is you tell me when you need something.”

“You just took something seemingly so complex and made it seem like the easiest thing in the world.” She wanted to reach out to touch him, but didn’t want to throw off his concentration.

“Good.” He paused to press his lips to her knee. “I have another question. Completely new conversation.”

“Shoot.”

He paused to consider how to ask the question. “You were to marry Alistair.”

“It’s weird to hear you say his name. Does it feel this weird for me to say Rinna?”

“It was the first few times, but not anymore.” Looking up at her, she looked relaxed and thoughtful as she watched him work and held tight to her dragon. “Still cannot believe I called you Rinna. Bad enough I had a night terror at your house, I _had_ to call you Rinna. I remember that and internally cringe every time.”

“I want something else for you.” Nyla watched a stray wisp of hair slip down his cheek as Zevran tilted his head, and she was grateful for an excuse to caress him. “It’s not my intent to convince you to feel otherwise, but I want you to know, that I am grateful for what happened as a result of that night. I took the day off. It was a very… productive day.”

“Mmm. Productivity.” Zevran chuckled, licking his lips in remembrance of his first taste of her. “Very good, amor, but it won’t stick.”

“Okay, fine,” she laughed, “Anyway. You calling me Rinna made sense, given the nature of your dream.” Feeling soft for him again, she remembered clearly his panic as he wiped his cheeks with alternating palms. “I was not hurt by your calling me Rinna. Not then, or now.”

“I am still sorry you saw that.” He shifted to get more comfortable as he worked her skin with his needle. “You see, I had been thinking of when and how to tell you about everything… I think that may be why I had the nightmare. It was very much on my mind.”

“That makes sense to me.” She reached down with a gentle hand to caress his cheek, he looked up at her with golden-brown eyes. “You are very pretty.” She mimicked his accent, “With a bun, without it.”

“Getting too good at that.” He turned his head and kissed her palm, finding it difficult to look away from her. “I was asking a question. I mean, setting up to ask a question.”

“Yes, I was engaged to Alistair. We were going to get married on September 19th of last year.” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Because my busy parents and his busy parents were available.”

Looking up at her again, he could see the repressed hurt behind her eyes. Imagining the hope of Alistair’s survival followed by the tragedy of his loss felt like a slap, visions of Nyla facing his parents afterward. After taking him on a trip that resulted in his end… Zevran wanted to curl up with her and hold her until the hurt went away forever. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Nyla shrugged again, and pet her dragon looking away from his compassionate gaze, before repressing tears became impossible. “What about that? Why did you want to talk about this?”

“Ah. Yes. Is marriage still an ideal? Still something you want?”

“Honestly. I could take or leave it.” She shrugged again. “This might be too sensitive topic for me.”

“Really? Why?” Zevran kept working despite his desire to stop and give her his attention undivided; he would never finish at this rate.

“I don’t know. I think I blew all my excitement on my almost-wedding. We had engagement photos made. I had a dress, invitations were sent. We had so much excitement… my mother planned it all with me, she was excited… she loved Alistair. Everyone did. Fergus and he had gotten so close. He was already part of our family. Our families got along, too. Our dads played golf together. It was… a fairytale. And then one day,” she mimicked her brother’s voice, “I’m sorry, Nyla. He’s gone.” She sighed and smiled to slow her heart, held her dragon close to hide shaking hands.

Zevran stopped tattooing and looked up at her. The saddest of smiles graced her lips, and her eyes were on the roses. Her ability to talk about this shit and apparently feel nothing was giving him a headache, and he imagined this was what it was like to be with him on the rooftop as he had looked at anything but her; what was he thinking? Oh yes, she was feeling this shit. “A little at a time you are letting me in, and I thank you for it.”

Eyes flicked down to meet his, and she nodded, sad-smiling lips quivering, she sighed. “You are a treasure.”

“No, you.” Zevran rested his cheek on her knee and smiled up at her playfully. “I did not know the question would be so heavy. I understand that your thoughts on this are complex and difficult to talk about. It is a conversation we do not really have to continue.”

“Thank you. May I borrow a pen and paper?”

“Only have a pencil.” He sat up and took his gloves off, and handed them to her. She scribbled something down and tore the sheet off in a matter of seconds, handing them back. “That was quick.”

“I had a thought I want to elaborate on later.” She smiled and folded it up, stuffing it in her bra. “I always miss my journal when I leave it behind.” Nyla looked down at the vibrant red ink of her dragon. “Wow. I can’t wait to see the finished-” he cut her off with a kiss that brought reality crashing back to her. _Zevran, boyfriend, golden hair, sweet touches, passion, amor… I love you._

“I wanted to do that so badly,” he purred, brushing her cheek with his fingertips.

“I’m glad you did.” She smiled up at him with a happy sigh. “Finish my tattoo, you fucking unicorn.”

"Amor, before we continue.” He gave her his sexiest smirk. “Studies show both pain tolerance threshold and pain detection threshold increase by 74.6 percent and 106.7 percent, respectively, after orgasm."

Nyla giggled raucously as he moved toward her with a predatory stare. “Did you...did you just memorize that to use it as... some sort of seduction tactic?”

“Mmm hmm.” He smirked, biting his lip and parting her thighs; a gentle invitation Nyla eagerly accepted as he settled between them. “It was not difficult to remember, I just had to look at it once. And then I reserved it specifically for tonight. I have been waiting literally weeks to say this, amor.”

“So much talking so little- oh my god.”

 

*******

 

Zevran typically felt glad to send reception home early, given they work her to death; for the first time ever, he regretted it. Now _he_ was responsible for telling his girlfriend the damage. “Total is $2,680.00, amor.”

“For just the tattoo or-”

“Nyla!” He chuckled and shook his head. “Thirteen hours at $200 hourly and the rest is supplies and such. _That_ was free, this time. ”

“This time.” She smiled, handing him a credit card.

Looking at it out of habit, it felt weird, should he have looked at it? _Fergus Cousland? Okay, awkward, not her card, but that’s her brother…_

“He… um… Fergus sent me a card for my buh-” She cleared her throat nervously. “Sort of my congratulatory… healing… Fergus is buying my tattoo for me. He said the cost didn’t matter. Is this awkward, Zev?”

“It is a bit awkward. I felt bad telling my waitress girlfriend how expensive I am and…” he sighed deeply and swiped the card through the machine. “I am glad your brother is buying you this gift.”

“It makes me feel bad that I never talk to him.”

“You don’t talk to him? How does he know anything? How did he get your address and send you this card?” The receipt printed and he handed it to her to sign.

Signing the receipt, she automatically left a fifteen percent tip of $402.00. “Well I told him the essentials. You’re becoming very bold in your questioning. I like it.”

Zevran sighed sadly, stressed out by his girlfriend tipping him most of his $700 monthly rent after paying for an overpriced tattoo he could have done in his own bedroom for free. _Awkward, fucking awkward. But no, this was a safer, more sterile environment._ “Uuuggh.” He stuffed the receipt in the register and closed it a little too vigorously.

“Hey.” Nyla spoke softly, reaching for him over the counter. She wrapped her hand gently around the back of his neck. “This isn’t that weird. It’s alright.”

“Okay, amor.” He sighed, relaxing under her touch. The sound of a car horn caught his attention, and he smiled, excited for her reaction. “Ride is here.”

“Oh?” Nyla turned around and went toward the door, the subtle movement intensified the burn in her leg. She soon forgot about it when she saw them through the glass waving frantically at her, Anders holding a bunch of balloons in his hand. She smiled broadly and dashed out the door. “Lelianders!”

With a wicked glare and pursed lips, Leliana reached up and popped one of the balloons. “Nyla.”

“Leliana, where are your manners!” Anders chided her playfully, holding the balloons in the hand farthest away from her.

Nyla couldn’t withhold the laughter as she went toward Leliana with open arms, and she was met with a warm hug. “I have no idea how you just did that but it was amazing. Thanks for coming.” She moved to hug Anders and he met her with equal warmth.

“You alright, Sketchy?” He pet her head. “So tiny.”

“Dammit, Anders!” Nyla laughed. “I’m fine! Let me go!”

“But the tiny hugs.”

“I’m not fucking tiny, _I’m average height!”_

“What are you like, 5 foot nothing?”

“I’m 5’3, tall asshole!”

“National average is 5’5.” Leliana added, reaching over to pet her back with both hands. “So little.”

 _“Fuck!”_ Nyla raged, laughing at how ridiculous it was that their teasing was actually getting to her.

“Okay.” Zevran chuckled, pulling her gently away from Anders’ grasp. “Pop a few more of those balloons so we can all fit in the car.”

The task of fitting all people and balloons in the car proved more taxing, and provided more laughter than Nyla could have ever hoped for. A mylar balloon originally stating “It’s a Girl” crudely altered with blue marker to read “It’s a Sketchbook Girl” bounced off her head for the entire drive to Zevran’s place. _With such quality entertainment, who has time to freak out over a little leg pain,_ she reminded herself over and over.

Tacos, cheesecake, tea, orange juice, her roses in the middle of the table, dragon in her arms, roommate shenanigans… _this is fun. It only burns for now and it’s not because of fire._

“I hate to leave the fun but I have studying to do.” Anders stood up, putting his dishware in the sink.

“Get back there and wash your dishes.” Leliana chuckled, looking at Nyla, “Seven years of reminders.”

“I forget when I’m in a hurry.” Anders huffed.

“Always in a hurry, then?” Zevran teased.

“I have an exam tomorrow, the hurrying is real this time!”

“Thanks for using some of your study time to hang out, tall asshole.” Nyla smiled at him, and he turned around, smiling back at her.

“My pleasure, Sketchbook Girl. Zevran told us how big this was for you.” Anders ruffled her hair as he passed her on his way to the fridge. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Are you pulling an all-nighter?” Leliana watched him closely as he went toward his room with an energy drink in hand.

“Possibly.” He shrugged. “I hope not, just depends on how long it all takes, I suppose.”

“Need help?” Leliana asked earnestly. “I can quiz you.”

“I think you would be up too late by the time I’m finished with the chapter, but thanks.”

“I didn’t ask how late I would be up.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, you’re awesome.” He went into his room and shut the door.

“There’s cereal for breakfast and I’ll pack you a lunch for tomorrow. Is tuna okay?” She called out, a muffled _“Yes, Leli, thank you!”_ Sounded from the other side of the door.

“You really take care of each other, huh?” Nyla smiled.

Leliana rolled her eyes. “Not now, Nyla.”

“No, I mean, this isn’t a Lelianders thing. I’m glad you have each other, regardless of context.” She sipped her tea.

“Thanks.” Leliana relaxed visibly and nodded casually with a smile. “Me too.”

The sudden silence in the room after Anders’ exit amplified the burning of her thigh, and Nyla gently reminded herself why it burned, and that she was safe; for the fourth time Zevran rested a gentle hand on her knee to stop her leg from bouncing.

“Okay, amor?”

“Tired. Very tired.” She rested her hand on his, lacing their fingers together. “But I’m okay.”

“Go on up to bed I’ll clean up the mess.” Leliana offered gently. “Unless you wanted to go home? I can drive you home.”

“I am keeping her tonight, Leli, thank you.” He stood, holding tight to her hand and Nyla followed his lead.

“I need a cigarette.” Nyla sighed.

“I keep forgetting that you smoke. Zevran, doesn’t that bother your asthma?”

“Asthma?” Nyla blinked in surprise, tilting her head at him.

With an inward cringe, Zevran responded calmly, “No, I am never with Nyla in close quarters when she smokes.”

“I smoke in my place _all the time.”_ Her eyes went wide.

Realizing what just happened, Leliana smiled apologetically, “Okay. Got it. Night!”

Once in the quiet confines of Zevran’s room, Nyla crawled onto his bed to lay on her back, sinking into the plush comforts of his blankets. “I would have liked to have known about your asthma.”

“It is not a big deal. It becomes problematic when I am exposed to certain irritants.”

“Like cigarette smoke?” She spoke pointedly. “Every time you put distance between us when I light up, I thought it was the smell you were averse to. I would have like to have known.”

“It does not occur to me as a cause for concern. People smoke everywhere, I am accustomed to avoiding it.”

“Do you have an inhaler?”

“Yes, I keep it on me. Usually in the inside pocket of my jacket.” He pulled off his shirt and rested his hands on his hips.

“Then it _is_ a cause for concern.”

“Angry with me, amor?”  

“No.” She bit her lip and stared at his bare chest.

“Zevran’s eyes are up here.” Not a chuckle or a smile from her in response, but when her eyes met his, he asked again, “Are you angry with me?”

“No.” Her lips quivered as she tried to force a smile. Lying motionless on his bed, her leg throbbed and burned. _Where’s mom, Fergus?_ She shook her head

“Do you wish to go smoke outside the window?” He approached her, sitting next to her. When she didn’t answer, he probed again. “Something is wrong?”

“No, no I’m not mad at you, please.” _Fergus, where’s mom?_ She shook her head,again. “Please just… stop.” _I’m not on fire. I’m literally not on fire! Why is this happening? I want my mom._

“Hey.” He spoke gently, beginning to catch on when she shifted her skirt to expose only her bandaged leg to open air. “Nyla, I am not sure what I am doing to cause you upset.” When he laid a gentle hand on her arm she pulled away to cover her face with her hands. Zevran looked on helplessly as his overwhelmed Nyla put all her efforts into shutting down, and shutting him out. He thought for a few moments and spoke playfully, “Hey girlfriend, I have an idea.”

“What’s that?” With a deep sigh, a few moments later she pulled her hands from her face. “An idea?”

Her smile did not seemed forced, and he smiled back with a nod. “Yes. It will be fun. Watch me, but do not move. Stay comfortable.”

“Oh?” She giggled, intrigued, thankful for the distraction, she watched him get up and cross the room.

“I keep my acrylics in this case over here.” He picked up a large plastic box from the corner by his easel, and placed it by the bed. “I like acrylics best because they dry quickly. While oils are lovely, sometimes I just want to fucking paint, and not wait.”

“You are passionate about this.” She chuckled with a smile.

“Mmm hmm.” He nodded excitedly. “Sometimes I get a vision in my mind or I see something I love, and I have a burning _need_ to put it on canvas. Or paper.”

“If I equate that with writing, it get’s to be very frustrating when something is stopping me.”

“Oh yes,” he nodded emphatically.

“Does it ever come out wrong and you throw it away and start over?” She relaxed more; more easily filtering out the burning sensation as she connected with him.

“I paint over the canvas with white to start over, but it is a rare occurrence for me.” He walked over to his brushes stored haphazardly in jars. Selecting a few, he spoke softly, “I just so happen to love my own work.” Grabbing a pallette and a painting knife, he returned to her and sat on the side of the bed.

“An artist that loves his own work?” She rested a gentle hand on his thigh. “That is remarkable.”

“So I hear.” He met her eyes and brushed his hand along her stomach, sliding her black, boat-neck t-shirt up to expose her soft skin; Nyla merely watched with interest. “Mmm,” he hummed gently, staring at the smooth, white belly of his muse, girlfriend, lover… the woman he was often convinced he loved with every fiber of his being.

“Hey!” Nyla laughed happily. “Are you going to paint me?”

“Mmm hmm.” Seeing her wide smile, he felt the relief of having her close again; interesting how she allowed him to see her unabashedly happy, openly admit her frustrations and concerns, tell him her deepest secrets, and still shut him out when she clearly needed someone. “The most beautiful canvas.”

“Oh, _stop,”_ she spoke playfully, patting his leg. “Actually, don’t stop. I’m listening.”

He bit his lip and spoke seriously, with a hint of playfulness, “This canvas is also quite sexy. Hmm. A very emotionally intelligent canvas,” he stared at her belly, reaching within himself for inspiration, to know what to paint on his perfect canvas. “Those the canvas allows near her love her very much, and…” he tilted his head, his hand worshiping the soft contours of his perfect canvas with gentle touches, “the canvas is very guarded, does not accept offers of love when it is sorely needed.”

It occurred to Zevran abruptly, a moment from when he was so small, and he hadn’t thought of it in so long.

 

 _‘What happened to her, mamá_ _?’_

_‘I am not sure, perhaps she has lost her mate? It is possible a swan will die of a broken heart.’_

_‘Oh no… swan. Could she not find a new one? Then she wouldn’t die?’_

_‘I don’t know. If she can find one who will love her and help her grieve, perhaps? Do not be troubled, preciosa. Look on the water! There are many living, happy swans on the water.’_

 

 _Mamá had no idea how badly that story would fuck with me,_ he smiled at his memory of searching the water for lone swans, wondering if they had lost their mates, his young mind frantic for a way to match one lonely swan with another so none of them would ever lie dead in the grass of a broken heart.

“The canvas has a broken heart.” He whispered dreamily and opened his box of paints; his canvas needed a swan. _Perhaps two. Yes. Two together would make her smile._

“Okay, I wasn’t ready.” Nyla laughed, nudging him out of his reverie. It was her whispered apology that had him look up to see her silent tears.

Her hands lifted, Zevran imagined, to cover her eyes and he caught them gently, graced them with a few gentle kisses, and with a soft smile he placed them by her sides.

“No te inquietes, preciosa.” _Do not be troubled, precious,_ he spoke softly. “Why have I never painted a childhood memory before?” Mixing blue, a little green, just a touch of orange, he prepared the color of water from his mind’s eye.  

Brush strokes didn’t tickle as Nyla had expected. Cool paint on her skin soothed and distracted her from the thrumming heat of her leg on fire. Weeping silent tears, she beheld the beauty of an artist at work; skilled hand moving in swift, calculated, graceful flicks and strokes. Zevran the artist got lost in his element, his art, whispering intermittently in Spanish, and it made her smile.

It wasn’t at all like watching him tattoo her. His concentration was keen, immersed in his world with a dreamy stare, and when he reached up to sweep away wisp of hair he left a swipe of white paint across his cheek which made her smile bigger. Laughter carried up to them from downstairs.

“That doesn’t sound like studying.” Nyla sniffled with a tearful giggle. “I’m s-sorry.” She stammered through brief, hiccupping sobs, overwhelmed by the sweetness of just being in their home, being her lover’s canvas. Laughter in the distance had always been precious to her; a common sound in the background of her childhood, made bittersweet by the loss of everyone she loved.

“Well, amor, Anders retired to his room, and as always, Leliana sat quietly in the living room to read a book, so as not to make noise and disturb him. After a time he emerges to see her sitting there and he retrieves his book. He will sit a respectful distance from her. Silence occasionally disrupted by their playful chatter. I have watched them do this for years.”

“So they have always been like this? Always close, but never lovers?”

“Mmm hmm. I believe they would do well in a romance with each other, but what I believe does not matter.” He sat up and reached for another tube of paint. “What matters is that they are happy.”

“Do you think they’re happy, Zev?”

“No, amor. They are missing out.” He looked up at her. “Romance is the most beautiful thing, and they both crave it, and keep each other from it unwittingly.”

“How do you know? Maybe they are happy as friends.”

“Because when one seeks romance apart from the other…” he grew silent for a moment as he reached for a smaller paintbrush and lay close to her. He dipped his brush in black pigment with a satisfied sigh. “The other will feel fear for the heart of the other, have a strong desire to protect the other from pain. Always they come home to each other, world-weary expressions melt away, and their smiles return. They do not know how to not love each other.”

“I believe you, Zevran.” She reached up to wipe her tears away. “What do you think will have them realize it someday? Or at least _one_ of them. Jesus.”

“Honestly?” He smiled and chuckled at himself. “One will have to actually lose the other in a very real way, so they can look back in regret, realizing what had been right there the whole time.”

“I hope you’re wrong.” Nyla’s lips quivered, “I hope they don’t need to lose it all to realize what they had. Fuck. God know’s I’m trying so hard not to cry right now, I’m so sorry.”

Putting down his brush and pallet, he moved to lie next to her.

“Zevran, shit. I’m sorry. Am I ruining this for you?”

“It is finished.” He smiled, kissing her. “You are a divine canvas.”

“That seemed to go by so fast.”

“Divine canvas is tiny.” He smiled, and he knew she didn’t have it in her to stare daggers at him.

“I’m not tiny.” She returned his kisses with a helpless chuckle, “Zevran, I’m not tiny. Can I look at your painting now?”

“Maybe.” He sat up and looked at her belly. “Aah. Yes. It is dry. I _love_ how fast acrylics dry!”

He hopped up, his feet landing silently on the wooden floor of his room. Reaching a hand out, he gently helped her up and guided her to the full length mirror affixed to the wall not far from his bed. Standing behind her, he whispered, “let me,” and pulled her shirt up and over her head, careful not to scuff the paint.

“Ohhh.” Nyla crooned, staring at his art - herself - in the mirror. Two swans together on the water, the sun shining down on them, peaceful, facing each other, their graceful necks forming the shape of a heart. “A childhood memory?”

“Mmm hmm. Mamá took me to see the swans often when I was very small. Until going to see swans with Mamá was no longer cool.” His hands rested gently on her waist, and his nose nuzzled sweetly against her neck. “Going to see the swans is cool again, though.”

“You had never painted a childhood memory before.” She watched him in the mirror and he shook his head. “It’s so beautiful. And now it’s just going to wash away… Zevran,” her chest quivered with a tearful sigh, “your art.”

“No amor.” He hushed her gently, resting his chin on her shoulder. Meeting her eyes in the mirror he smiled a smile reserved just for her. “It is just paint. You are the art.”

* * *

 

Selfie by [@goblinscribbles!](http://goblinscribbles.tumblr.com/)

[Look me up on tumblr to see more art of these two!](http://turbootaku.tumblr.com/) You'll find it all under the Zevla tag.


	13. Chapter 13

Saturday at Fisherman’s Wharf; Nyla’s favorite hangout when she felt lonely and needed comfort. Lots of people, plenty of benches to sit on, sea lions, the antique arcade, and her favorite food apart from tacos; a large sourdough roll hollowed out and filled with clam chowder.

Bread bowl in hand, she sat on a bench and looked out at the water. A small blond boy around three smiled at her as he walked by, an ice cream cone in his hand. The random smile was exactly what she needed. Grinning at him happily, his little smile got bigger, and he flopped his hand in the air in an ecstatic greeting. _I need one of those in a bit,_ Nyla thought, wondering if gelato would make her feel better. _Nooo definitely time for a walk to Ghirardelli Square, god their ice cream is so good. I wonder what flavor ice cream Zevran likes. I bet he likes mint chocolate chip in a sugar cone. It would get melty and he would... lick around it with… broad flat strokes… oh god._ She sighed with a shiver.

A happy couple stood nearby, an arm around each other. _Well, they look happy, anyway. I sure hope they are._ She spooned the last of her clam chowder into her mouth and bit the bowl. _Fucking, so good. I wonder if Zevran likes clam chowder. I bet he does._

Pigeons pecked around at the ground nearby. Watching pigeons had always made her happy; watching them bash their own faces off the ground to eat imperceptible things. _Hilarious. I wonder if Zevran likes pigeons? I bet he does._ She placed the remaining bread bowl on the ground and four pigeons flapped to it with gusto. Then five. Seven. Nyla giggled, watching them whack it around and pull on it as if they hadn’t eaten in decades.

“You don’t fool me, little birds. You’ve been eating all day.” She smiled, nudging it a little further away from herself with her foot. “Excuse me ladies and or gentlemen, I must go visit the sea lions and wait to be hungry again so I can cram strawberry cheesecake ice cream down my gullet as fast as I can.” _I’m talking to birds. I’m not lonely or anything._ Nyla looked at the nearby couple who were smiling at her and her bird dialogue. She returned their smile.

She hopped up and checked for her purse again. Of course it was there; heavy, the strap resting on one shoulder and under her opposite arm, her light raincoat pulled on over it. Can’t be too careful, a small woman walking around by herself in a big city, _I AM NOT SMALL!_ She furrowed her brow and walked taller and faster, surveying passers by for height. _Taller than me… that lady is taller, he’s taller, she’s taller, taller, aha! I am taller than this hunchbacked old woman! Ah fuck. FUCK!_ She chuckled and pointed her eyes forward. _I am not tiny._

Walking briskly down the pier, she felt keen appreciation for the way the sun sparkled on the water, imagined Zevran would enjoy it. Climbing a sizeable concrete pyramid intended for sitting, she sat at the very top. _WHO’S TINY NOW, ANDERS!?_ She looked down on people with a contented smile. Watching sea lions, she stared at a large, loud one bellowing his head off. No other sea lions seemed to be bothering it, it had a whole little dock to itself. _What in the world is this one bellowing about? Is it lonely? Just talking? Mating call, maybe?_

Twenty minutes ticked by, watching sea lion antics, feeling taller than everyone else, Nyla bored of it after a while. After taking a few Tylenol from her pocket to help the subtle sting of her healing tattoo and popping a piece of nicotine gum in her mouth she moved on, headed toward the Musée Mécanique; the antique arcade. Nyla brought dimes so she could look at risqué pictures from the 1920’s.

She spoke the words in her head for a while as she ignored the height of around everyone around her. _Musée Mécanique. God, why is it such a pretty thing to say? Musée Mécanique. If a Spanish person, for example, Zevran, spoke French, how would his accent impact his speaking French? Can I google this?_ She stopped outside the Musée Mécanique and pulled her phone from her purse. Resting her elbows on the wooden barrier between herself and the ocean, she hit the home button on her phone. A text message from Zevran displayed on the lock screen.

 

_Amor, while it is not my intent to infringe on your desire for solitude on this day, you promised you would text me two hours ago, and I am concerned for your wellbeing._

 

“Shit. It’s 5:30.” She whispered, swiping her finger across the screen in a rush; guilt, sadness, and longing hit her like a ton of bricks, and she dropped her phone in the ocean. “Oh my fucking god! _Why_ was I holding my phone over the fucking ocean?”

“That sucks!” A woman her age nearby spoke sympathetically; she backed away from the wooden barrier with a laugh. “I’m doing it too. Do you need a phone?”

“Well…” Nyla scrubbed her face. “We don’t do the phone number memorizing thing anymore so… not really. Thanks a lot, though. I just wanted to ask google what kind of problems a Spanish speaking person trying to speak French might have. Then I saw this text from my boyfriend and it all went to hell from there.”

“Yeah, sucks.” She looked down at her phone and busied herself with a text.

“Thanks again.” Nyla walked away feeling awkward. _Dammit I hate it when I get dismissed like that. What the shit do people have against talking to a stranger? I’m not scary. I’m a tiny woman, literally the least intimidating thing out here- GOD DAMMIT ANDERS I’M NOT TINY!_ She walked into the Musée Mécanique with a frustrated pout.

Phone gone, no music, no way to return Zevran’s text; her mood soured and nothing around her looked appealing. _Damn. Sorry, Laughing Sal, not in the mood,_ she thought to the giant, mechanical woman on her way out the door. _Ice cream time._ She headed for Ghirardelli Square, hoping the line wasn’t a mile long so she didn’t miss her phone too much. She _really_ wanted to text Zevran. She felt bad, and at the same time imagined he would understand.

Nyla hadn’t realized she went in the wrong direction until she heard the sea lions again, and she turned around with a sigh. _Okay, Nyla, we have been over this. It’s a right out the door of the Musée Mécanique._ It was growing dark by the time she made it to Ghirardelli square, the line a mile long, and she couldn’t handle it. _Palace of Fine Arts. I need to see it._ She began walking briskly, passing Musée Mécanique again, she turned around with a frustrated huff. _Left outside of Ghirardelli Square, Nyla! Fuck!_

Halfway to the Palace of Fine arts, it grew too dark, not a soul around her, she didn't feel safe and changed her mind, walking back toward the wharf. _I want to see the big sailboat._

She sat on the sand to watch tiny waves lap at the shore, feeling heavy and lonely, surrounded by a few happy sounding people. Counting the masts of the big sailboat, Nyla thought about her family, and the many outings they had together. Her parents were always holding hands; Nyla smiled at the memory, and it faltered as she realized, two years ago today around that time they were arriving at the hotel.

 

_“They only have four rooms available, all of them have one bed.”_

_“I want to stay in a room with you, Auntie!” Oren spoke from his perch on Alistair’s shoulders._

_“Who will stay with me, Oren? You’re going to leave your poor mother alone?”_

_“Mom, you can stay with Grandma.”_

_“But then who will I stay with?”_  
  
_“Grandpa, you will stay with Alistair.” Oren spoke simply._

_“I’m not sharing a bed with your grandfather.” Alistair laughed._

_“We can’t stay here.” Their heads whipped around to look at Nyla. “It’s going to catch fire, let's go somewhere else.”  
_

 

Nyla stood up in a panic and started walking _. THAT is what I wish happened!_ She tripped over the concrete stairs, scuffing her knees.

“You alright?” A masculine voice spoke.

Ignoring him, she stood up and briskly walked uphill to get back onto the sidewalk. _It’s a right … it’s left to the… I need my phone. I need my GPS._ She spun a few circles. _I need to call Mom. I mean Zevran. I need to call Zevran._ This started to feel a bit too much like insanity. She stopped to close her eyes and breathe.

 _Musée Mécanique is a right from Ghirardelli square, which I am facing. I go left. I will catch the trolley._ She began walking. _No. Don’t think about that…_ making love with Alistair that night in the hotel. His gentle nasally moans, whispered I love yous, the way he giggled and covered her mouth as she reached orgasm. _No, don’t think about that._ She shook her head and looked around at the thinning crowd. _How dare that couple look like my parents!_ Casting her eyes downward, she blinked back tears. She tried to straighten out her shoulders and walk tall, but she felt so very heavy.

 

_“Nyla?” He began to cry. “Little sister, come on, look at me. Hey. Don’t try to talk. Shhh.” He pet her hair, holding her hand._

_“You’re in Eureka.” She coughed, blinked to clear the blur. “Happy birthday!”_

_“No, honey, it’s your-” he kissed her hand and sobbed. “How are you feeling?”_

_“Hurts.” She looked around. Hospital? This wasn’t right. “Where’s mom?”_

_With a trembling hand he pressed the call button, a feminine voice replied. “Can I help you?”_

_“She’s awake and in pain.” Fergus wiped his tears away with the back of his hand._

_“Be right there.”_

_“Fergus where’s mom?” Panic escalated._

_“Honey, mom isn’t here, it’s just me.”_

_“When’s she going to be here?” Disappointed eyes landed on a the nurse who walked in and began fiddling with the IV attached to her. “Did she say when she’s going to be here, Fergus? I need her.”_

_“She’s not coming, Nyla. She can’t.”_

_“Why not?” Nyla watched the nurse walk out, a choked back sob and a hand over her mouth._

_“There was a fire at the hotel.” He watched his little sister’s face fall as understanding seeped in._

_“Oh, god.” She stared at the wall beyond the foot of her bed._

 

Nyla shook her head, blinked back tears. _Nope. Stop it._ She waited for the trolley.

 

*******

 

“I’m sorry, I am not allowed to tell you if she’s been into work today, or when she’s supposed to be here or anything like that.” The man spoke kindly and firmly. “It’s for her safety. Believe me, lots of men have-”

“I understand, I am glad you have such a policy, however…” _Lots of men!?_ Zevran sighed palming his face. “Look, is Cassandra here?”

“Sure, I’ll go get her but she will tell you the same thing.” He disappeared and came back with her quickly.

“You did the right thing, Cremisius, always do that. But I know Zevran, he is her partner.” Cassandra looked at Zevran, “She hasn’t been in today. Birthdays are paid holidays here.”

It felt like someone had swung a baseball bat with every bit of their strength and whacked him in the chest. “I’m sorry? Excuse me?”

“I assumed she would be with you right now.” Cassandra rested her hands on her hips with a sigh and shook her head. “You forgot her birthday. Okay, look, order flowers, have them delivered to her house-”

“I did not _know_ it was her birthday. Are you positive?”

“I had to see her identification in order to hire her, of course I know. Don’t look so devastated, it’s not as if someone died. Maybe she is just shy about it.”

“I understand… thank you.” He turned around and walked briskly out the door. _Jesus fucking Christ, Nyla, your entire family died on your fucking birthday?_ It was no mystery to him why she wouldn’t want to bring it up. He shook his head and thought hard. She wasn’t at her place, he received no read receipt after he sent his text, this was unlike her. _What the fuck, Zevran? Nyla is a grown woman, go home._

  
_Leli_  
_Leli_  
_Leliana  
Lelianaaaaa_

 _What’s up?_  
  
_Seen Nyla? Spoken to her?_

 _No, why?_  
_  
Has Anders?_

_He said nope and he asked why. What’s going on?_

_Let me know if you hear from her?_

_Sure!  
_

 

He ordered a Lyft to take him back to Nyla's place and could not shake the feeling; _something is very fucking wrong._

 

*******

 

_“Fergus?”_

_He wept, petting her hair. “Yeah, sis?”_

_“How bad is mom hurt?”_

_“She’s gone, honey.”_

_“Wait, no.” Nyla looked at him with a wide, horrified stare. “Dead gone?”_

_He nodded, crying hard. “They’re all gone, Alistair... isn’t well... I’m so glad I still have you.”_

_“No. Wait.” Her head flopped back on the pillow and she stared at the ceiling. “Mom!”_

_“I’m sorry.” He kissed her hand, “Honey, I’m sorry. Please.”_

_“Mom!” This wasn’t real. She just had to… had to wake up! That’s all. A bad dream. It’s a dream._

 

Nyla got off the trolley having missed her stop, and arrived who fucking knew where. She wiped a tear from her cheek, her heart pounded, she shivered from the cold and emotional turmoil; it began to rain. Without a phone she couldn’t call a cab, it was late and dark, she was losing her shit and she needed to get home where she could hole up and feel safe; a cab drove by and she waved her arms. He pulled over, she jumped in, relieved to escape the sudden downpour. Giving her address, he started the journey, and she sat back comfortably and stared out the window; crisis averted.

 

_Sitting in her room, Nyla stared sleepily at the ceiling. Pain killers numbed her, and she thought about nothing, her tv on only to provide background noise._

_“Sis?” Fergus knocked on the door jam and walked in._

_“Heyyy, bro!” She yawned and raised her arm in a lazy wave, glad for the company. “Come on in. What’s shakin’, bacon?”_

_“We need to talk.”_

_He did not sound like a happy brother. Fergus sat on the foot of her bed and met her eyes._

_“Have you been crying?” She shifted to lay on her side, cringing from the pain in her leg. He nodded. What he would be crying about just seemed obvious to her. “Fergus… how is Alistair?”_

_He swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath to steady himself. “I’m sorry, Nyla. He’s gone.”  
_

 

She sat up straight with a gasp and shook her head, feeling as though she would be sick. _Give me a break, Nyla, that was 2 years ago. Zevran. Think about Zevran. Warm embraces, sweet kisses, gorgeous smiles and mirthful chuckles… so sweet._ It only made her hide her face and cry, made her miss him, and suddenly she needed him so badly; if only she hadn’t lost her phone. Surroundings started to look familiar, she was almost home; if only she had his address.

“Wait. Do you know how to get to High Dragon Tattoo?” She sat up, sniffled, wiped tears from her cheeks and sighed. “I need to go there instead.”

“I’ll look it up.” He pulled over, didn’t seem to care she was crying, and she was glad. “Yep. Got it.”

“Thanks.” Nyla nodded with a fake, quivering smile as if he could see her. _Oh god, it hurts._ She breathed deeply to stop the tears, to prepare herself to see him. _‘If it ever comes up, I want you to know it is safe to show me your tears, without apology.’_ She believed him, trusted him, but she preferred by far to get her shit together.

 

*******

 

Returning to Nyla’s apartment, after a knock and a polite wait, he used his key. Perhaps he was being needy, he thought, but he was _worried!_ She promised a 3pm text to let him know she was alright; did failing to fulfill her promise mean she wasn’t? _Amor, what is happening?_

Standing in her kitchen, he took a moment to look around, discovering something new; a coffee pot with two white mugs sitting beside it ready for use. So sweet, he couldn’t wait to use them with her. A piece of twine across her kitchen sink up high, the flowers he recently bought her hung upside down, drying. He smiled; she was preserving the flowers he bought her, and his girlfriend was beginning to feel safe enough in her life to own things.

Proceeding to the living room, Cat stood up, stretched and chirped, rubbed on his legs. Picking him up, Zevran sighed, idly scratching Cat’s head. “Where is your mamá?”

He walked to her bedroom with Cat purring contentedly in his arms; of course she wasn’t there. _I should wait for her._ He looked at his phone, checked to see if she read his message. Nope. _It’s 8:30pm, and you are standing in your girlfriend’s apartment uninvited waiting for her to come back. She is an adult, you don’t own her. Go home, Zevran._

 

*******

 

Standing in front of Zevran's tattoo parlor in the rain, Nyla chuckled to herself. __Of course it's raining._ Jesus Christ, why is this my life? _ She knew her way from there. _Three blocks… two over, one down._ She reached behind herself to put her hood up; it was gone. _Of course,_ earlier that day she had unsnapped it and left it on her bedroom floor. _Nice._ She sighed audibly and chuckled, hugging herself as cold rain slid down her raincoat. _Okay breathe. I’m going to visit Zevran and we’ll laugh about what I did to my phone._ A fifteen minute walk, she felt lighter. Knocking on the door in a playful rhythm, to set the mood for her arrival, Leliana opened the door, smiling, excited to see her.

“Sketchbook Girl! You’re all wet! Seriously, I have a car. If you don’t have money for a cab just ask me to-” Her smile faltered. “You alright?”

Just seeing her friend, Nyla cringed in the midst of her own forced smile. She wanted to hug her friend so badly but didn’t want to get her soaking wet. “Is Zevran here?” Is all she could manage, as her heart pounded. _She’s going to think I’m crazy._

Leliana spoke sympathetically reaching for her, an inviting gesture to come in from the rain, “I’m sorry, Nyla. He’s gone. Come inside.”

It was as if an unseen hand reached inside her head and mashed every panic button on the panel. Clutching her chest, her vision grew spotty, she felt a sudden weight too heavy for her legs to bear and grabbed the railing for stability. “Don’t say that Leli!”  

“Nyla? What’s wrong?” She moved to grab Nyla’s arm, steadying her. “What did I say?”

“Don’t say that, Leli!” She sobbed, tightness in her chest, knees so weak, “Don’t say that, Leli!”

Holding Nyla’s arm, Leliana looked closely at her, eyes searching her face, wondering what happened, what to do, _she looks like a child, and so shattered…_ “Come inside.”

Nyla pulled from her grasp, sat on the stairs and hugged herself.

 

_“I’m sorry, Nyla. He’s gone.”_

_“No, don’t say that.” Nyla covered her eyes. “Don’t say that, Fergus!”_

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He reached out and stroked her arm._

_“Don’t say that, Fergus! Don’t say that!”_

 

Sitting on the concrete steps, she brought a hand up to palm her forehead. _Don’t say that. Don’t say that._ She cried hard, rocking herself, her leg bouncing of its own accord. _I’m not okay... oh shit, I’m not okay..._

Leliana felt lost, she didn’t know what to do… she needed backup. “Anders, help!”

Her voice carried to him and he ran from his bedroom. “Leliana? What? Is someone crying?”

“Help me get her inside.”

“Get who...” he stood at the door with his mouth agape, tiny Sketchbook Girl wailing and rocking on their stairs. He stepped out into the rain and rested a hand on her back and spoke with soft tones he usually reserved for cats, “Hey why you cryin’ Sketchy? Will you come inside?” When she didn’t respond, he looked up at Leliana, “Is she injured?”

“No-”

“Where’s Zevran?”

“I think he’s still looking for her,” Leliana replied shakily.  

Zevran witnessed the commotion from down the street as the car approached his home. Leliana standing in the doorway with one arm around her waist and hand over her heart, Anders standing in the rain to rest a comforting hand on Nyla’s back; Zevran had never seen their faces so perturbed. Rushing out of the car, heart in his throat, he couldn’t move fast enough, the splat of wet concrete beneath his boots echoed as he ran, and the sounds of desperate, breathless weeping grew louder as he closed in on her.

“Amor?” he spoke breathlessly, reaching out to stroke his beautiful woman’s ice-cold cheek. “Nyla?”

Her face scrunched with crying, Nyla peered up at him from behind a protective hand and briefly reached the other toward him. The relief of seeing those warm golden-brown eyes hurt far too much; _he’s right there and I’m too wet I can’t hold him I’m too wet too cold-_ warm arms wrapping around her interrupted her looping thoughts, and her body went weightless as Zevran picked her up from the cold, wet stairs.

“I have you,” he spoke softly, cradling her and walking up the few remaining steps, turning sideways to fit through the doorway. It all felt so dreamlike, carrying her. His lover’s weeping tugged at his heart, making him ache. He walked slowly through their kitchen, and her arms wrapped around his neck, _so cold, amor_. “I have you.”

“She only just showed up a few minutes ago and I only told her you weren’t here and then this happened I don’t know what-”

“Leli, Leli,” Anders spoke gently, urgently, resting a hand on her arm. “This isn’t your fault. She’s going to be fine. Just relax.” Leliana stared at him wide eyed, near tears, and he opened his arms. “Come on. Hug it out.”

“This isn’t a laughing matter.” Leliana chuckled despite herself. “I don’t know what I did that hurt her so badly. I feel _so bad!”_

“Whatever it is, it’s not your fault. I’m going to stand here like this until you’re ready to hug this shit out.”

Hushed voices of their friends grew more distant as he ascended the stairs to his room. Upon entering, he sat her on his wooden folding chair; the one he so often sat in while he sketched her in the mornings while she slept.

Apart from the obvious - being alone on her birthday and it being the second anniversary of the death of her family - he had no idea what had happened to set her off on his doorstep. She shivered from the cold, breathing erratically through hiccuping tears; his poor amor, but at least he knew where she was. At least now he didn’t have to feel helpless as he wandered, searching for her.

“Amor.” He pulled away from her gently, she was reluctant to let him go. “Let’s get you warm. Okay?”

Zevran started with unzipping her jacket, and with a quivering sigh and a sniffle, her eyes met his, and he smiled just for her, taking a moment to gently touch her cheek.  

Something about his warm gaze on hers, the smile he shared, gentle touches and the heartfelt desire to offer her comfort, her tears intensified. Zevran pulled on the sleeves of her coat and when she was free from its confines she raised her hands to hide behind her palms.

“Nyla?” He took her hands in his and she breathed deeply, he could see her struggle in her attempts to compose herself. Her pained gaze met his, lips and nose twitching. Kissing her cold fingers, he just wanted comfort for her, safety. He didn’t know what was wrong, he had curiosity, but it seemed to be the least important thing in that moment. “I just want you to feel safe,” he whispered. “Please don’t hide.”

It was hard, and her hands twitched with the desire to cover her face, to hide; she closed her eyes instead. _He’s going to think I’m crazy._ The weight of her purse left her shoulder, and feeling a tug on the hem of her shirt, she lifted her arms. The sopping, long sleeved, plain black shirt peeled off of her and hit the floor with a wet splat, she shivered as he reached behind her and warm fingers unclasped her bra. A few moments later a towel brushed along her arms, and then patted her braided hair. _You’re not a child, Nyla, Jesus…_ he brushed her hands away when she tried to help.

“Let me.” he whispered, draping the towel over her shoulders and rubbing her arms to generate heat. He bent down and removed her soaked shoes and socks. Taking her hands, he helped her to stand. Pulling down her knee length skirt, the bandage over her tattoo was barely affixed, moistened and sliding off of her; he removed it and tossed it on the pile of wet clothing. Her light blue cotton panties (clearly she had not prepared for him) survived the downpour, and he had a joke saved for later. Placing a gentle kiss on her thigh, he noticed scrapes on her knees. _Ugh, and she fell down at some point._ His girlfriend had some of the worst luck he had ever witnessed. Retrieving his plush bathrobe from his closet, it was satisfying and enjoyable for him to slide it over her arms, wrap her in it, tying it with a loose bow.

She stood motionless, the effort of just letting someone take care of her distracted from tears, but the ache remained, the weight just as heavy. Nimble fingers unbraided her hair, and he blotted her hair with the towel; shivering subsided a little, and she opened her eyes, his stare was soft as he walked away and pulled back the bedcovers.

“Get comfy, and in a moment dry Zevran will join you.” His sweet girlfriend looked to be in a daze as she complied, curling up on her right side to face him; she always took the left side of the bed, he had come to expect it, and for reasons unknown it made him smile. The relief of stripping off cold, wet clothes was stark; he wiped himself dry, and slipped on a simple t-shirt and shorts. Crawling beneath the covers with her, he spoke with open arms, “Come here, amor, Zevran needs to cuddle you.”  

“I want to lay on your chest,” she whispered, her voice cracking with the effort of asserting her preference.

He shifted to lay on his back, and she curled tight against him. Sniffling and resting her head on his heart, Zevran wondered if she always slept to his left so she could do just this; curl up on him to have a beating heart against her ear. Regardless of the truth of it, he felt so much love for her.

“My hair is getting your shirt wet.”

“No te inquietes, preciosa.” _Do not be troubled, precious,_ he spoke softly, encouraging her with gentle movements to stay. “Deja que te ame.” _Let me love you._

“What did you say?” She whispered.

“Essentially... chill out, amor.” He spoke playfully, kissing her forehead, running fingers through her hair. “You are safe.”

 _Safe…_ examining the concept brought her to tears again, and in trying to repress them, she let out a quivering, noisy sigh. “I’m sss- god dammit!” She chuckled, simultaneously letting herself cry, hiding her face.

“Yes,” Zevran crooned, holding her tight, a hand brushing her hair. “No apologizing. Nyla is safe.”

“Are we ever, really?” She spoke tearfully. “I went to sleep surrounded by people I loved, people I trusted… I had a _tribe,_ and I woke up surrounded by death” Clinging to him, she asked, “Why is my tribe gone?”  

“Mmm.” He kissed her forehead, imagining _tribe._ She spoke the word as if it had so much significance.

Lifting her head to look at him, “I had something precious. My family, a tribe... it’s gone, and I can never have it again.”

“No?” He tilted his head at her, beginning to understand.

“They knew me from infancy, gave me everything, knew me in a way nobody else can,” with quivering lips she sighed shakily, “And when I lost them, it changed me. It changed my heart and soul, the way I look and feel and the world became so dark…” She felt compelled to apologize again as she buried her face in his shirt and repressed tears. “The light never fucking came back, it’s still so fucking dark.”   

An experience so jarring it alters your universe; oh yes, Zevran could relate to that in a big way.

“Zevran, I _asked_ for this. I wanted to see Fergus for- _reasons!”_

“Your birthday.” He spoke for her, meeting her eyes.

“It was my special day and they asked me what I wanted, and I said I wanted…” she floundered, the words stuck in her throat.

“Big brother.” Something hit him when he spoke it, his chest feeling tight, eyes growing moist. “All you wanted for your birthday from your family was to spend time with them, and with your big brother.”

She looked up at him, nodding, face scrunched from tears withheld. After a few moments, she sighed and asked, “Okay, how did you figure out my birthday? I hid that from you.”

“Mmm.” Zevran sighed, tucking her damp hair behind her ear. “Well, when I did not hear from you as you promised, and I must say, I firmly believe you would never intentionally break a promise, I became concerned. First, I knocked on your door, no answer. Then I went to your work, because you do not check your phone at work so often-”

“You went looking for me?”  

“Yes, of course. I spoke to Cassandra, she told me of course you were not there, birthdays are paid holidays.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. It was a most unpleasant realization, to learn it is your birthday among everything else. It just seemed to cut so deeply, I needed to have you near me. So I went back to your place, and let myself in with the key you gave me. Just needing to be near you, not knowing where you were, what happened to you, I lingered for too long. I wish I had been here to greet you.”

“Can I tell you my secrets?”

“Yes!” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Fucking yes, amor! Why would I not be completely stoked about this?”

With a chuckle she sat up. “Okay. I need a book from my purse. Not the smaller black one. The bigger blue one.”

“This is why Nyla’s purse feels like it is full of books.” He retrieved the book for her. “Your purse is only damp.”

“Water resistant.” She smiled sadly as she settled the book on her lap. Zevran took a moment to turn on his space heater, returning to her with soft relief in his heart, eager to hear her secrets; it was finally his turn to be awesome for her.

Leaning on pillows against the headboard, Zevran pulled the covers over their legs. Cozy, so domesticated, it felt lovely and novel; he craned his neck to kiss her cheek as she opened her book. A picture of 6 ballerinas stretching, warming up.

“See?” She pointed to the very pale skinned ballerina with her back to the camera, hands gracefully clasped behind her. “That was me, four years ago.”

“Yes, Zevran could easily recognize his girlfriend’s long legs in a lineup.” A tap on his bedroom door caught their attention. “Come!”

Anders opened the door and stepped aside for Leliana, holding two cups of hot tea. “I thought you both might want a hot drink after being in the cold.” Leliana placed them on the end table closes to Zevran. “Or do you want something else? Hot chocolate instead? Coffee? Are you hungry?”  

“I have rootbeer!” Anders added. “Also vanilla ice cream. I can make floats?”

“Please,” Nyla held her palms up, gesturing for them to stop; the sweetness was too much, and she was too near crying. “You’re literally fucking killing me.” Well, now she was crying, raising her hands to cover her eyes.

“Oh!” Leliana backed away, wide eyed.

Anders followed her lead, “Sorry! It’s a bad time, we’ll go.”

“Yes, get out of Zevran’s room, troublemakers!” He spoke playfully, wrapping a protective arm around Nyla. “Making Zevran’s tiny girlfriend cry with your tea and kindness! _How dare!”_

“I’m not fucking tiny.” She looked up from behind her hands, smiling and laughing through tears, “And I want a rootbeer float later.”

“What is going on?” Leliana giggled, backing away slowly toward the door.

“I don’t know, Leli, let’s run for it, and just make sure Sketchbook Girl has ice cream later so she doesn’t cry or anything and get us in trouble with Zevran.” He backed out slowly, closing the door with exaggerated caution. Anders voice carried up the stairs _“Doesn’t she look so cute in Zevran’s fuzzy blue robe? Dammit they’re so cute!”_

“It’s really hard for me to feel bad about anything when the most important thing for him to immediately address is the memory of me in your bathrobe.” She sniffled, and Zevran handed her a cup of tea. “Not the tears, or the emotional instability, or accusations of attempted murder.”

“Mmm hmm.” He smiled, “Your friends just wanted to see you are okay.”

“Oh, they’re _my_ friends now?” She smiled.

“Only when they are being annoying. When they are being cool, then they are Zevran’s friends.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” Nyla chuckled, placing her tea on the table on her side of the bed. She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose vigorously. “That’s much better. You know, when you cry, you do it so gracefully. Tears down your cheeks, your eyes might swell a little bit. When I cry, my eyes get all bright red, and it’s like... snot everywhere. Tears like a wellspring. I could drown us.”

“Everything you do is cute. Show me more of your book?” He smiled for her, glad his roommates showed up to bring levity into the hell she had been trapped in. As a weight seemed to lift off of her, he began to understand her a little better; family, _tribe,_ had always been essential to her. She needed it to thrive and grow, and he almost wept imagining _this_ woman going years without close human contact when it was all she wanted; it must have been hell for her.

“This is when we all went to Paris. Three years ago. That’s me on the left, Alistair on the right. My dad took this picture.” A favorite of hers even if it was taken from behind them; they sat on the grass, her long hair in a ponytail, Alistair laid back to rest on his elbows, their drinks between them. They were having so much fun, looking up at the Eiffel Tower.

 

_“Hmm. Let’s go climb it.” Alistair spoke thoughtfully._

_“Can we?” She smiled at him. “Is there a way? Let’s ask around.”_

_“What?” He looked back at her, blinking rapidly._

_“What? I love climbing shit, you know this.”_

_He laughed hard, “Not scaling the outside, I mean climbing up the stairs on the inside. It would be fun.”_

_“Oh. Ohhh. I guess that could be fun.” Nyla rolled her eyes. “Fun like climbing a metric fuckton of stairs.”_

_“Metric fuckton.” Alistair chortled._

_With an excited cackle, she realized how funny she was. “Yes, I don’t calculate stairs by how many there are. I weigh them.”  
_

 

Absently, she rested her hand on the picture to cover Alistair, imagining herself alone looking up at the Eiffel Tower. _What would it have been like without him?_ She shuddered, and Zevran laid his hand on hers. It surprised her, and she watched tearfully as he laced his fingers with hers.

Resting his head against hers, he spoke softly, “I am sorry amor, that your heart is broken.”

“Thank you.” She whispered, curling her fingers with his.

A few moments later he withdrew his hand. “Next page?”

“Skipping that one.” Nyla spoke plainly.

“No skipping.” Surprisingly, she listened to him, and showed him the face of a beautiful young man. “I am guessing this is Alistair?”

“Yes.” She stroked the page with her fingertips. “He was lovely, inside and out. A good man. My best friend.” Turning her head to look at Zevran, with a smile she spoke softly, “I hope this isn’t weird.”

“No, amor.” He shook his head, “If you recall, I shared about Rinna. I imagine I know what it was like for you to hear it, now. It is a relief to hear it, as if you are trusting me with your private world. Trusting me to not become jealous or hurt by comparisons.”

“Yes.” She kissed him full on the mouth. It had to happen, he was being too perfect. When she looked away, she turned the page. “Ah. Vacation with my best friends. That’s Beth. This one here, is Heather. We went on a cruise. See how tan I was?”

“Mmm hmm. Very nice.” He stared at her smiling face. Such a big smile, one he had never seen. Clear eyes sparkled with untroubled youth. Innocence. This was a very different Nyla, only vaguely recognizable. “I am curious... am I hearing secrets right now?”

“I’m getting there.” She turned the page. “My parents walking on the beach and holding hands. They held hands all the time. Just a little touch, a little way to connect so the other knows you’re right there. I had the privilege of growing up with parents in love. Probably part of why I am so selective with who I will give my heart to... looking for the person who wants to hold my hand all the time.” She sighed, turned the page. “Ah, this. This was taken by Fergus, he wanted to commemorate the moment of my first steps since the fire for some reason. And now I’m stuck with an image of my depressing face as I emotionally prepared myself for pain.”

“This is not a depressing face. This is the face of a warrior.” He loved the picture, her hair mussed, face pale, she looked fierce and ready, glaring straight ahead, concentrating deeply; an expression worthy of being put to canvas. “I see exactly why Fergus took this picture.”

“Thank you.” She spoke softly, hesitating before turning the page with a trembling hand. “These aren’t in any order. After I lost everyone, I just felt the need to… express these things somewhere. It started out as favorite memories. Then, after a while, it got a little weird.” She sighed deeply. “I tore this picture out of a magazine. Dark clouds were calming, somehow. Overcast skies.”

Zevran leaned over to read aloud the small caption written in her hand. “It is impossible to answer the question ‘What’s wrong?’ when nothing is right.”

“The words in my head as I began my downward spiral.” Nyla smirked at him, and turned the page. “A picture Fergus took when we went out for dinner together. My first time dressing up nice, going to a restaurant. He thought those were happy tears I was wiping away, and I let him believe it. He said he loved this picture, thought I would want it so he printed it and gave it to me. I found this clipping in a magazine, and I was… just letting off some steam, from being so sorely misunderstood.”

“That’s… very sad.” He drew a finger along the words pasted over her eyes, _‘I’m fine,’_ and looked at Nyla, her brow furrowed with an exaggerated frown. “Okay amor?”

“Yes.” She whispered, turning the page, her anxiety rising. “No. Just… just look.” She handed the book to him. “I can’t do this. Please just look.”

With a deep breath to steady himself, Zevran held the book. Another clipping of a beautiful stormy sky, another caption. _‘There’s nothing left for me here.’_ His heart leaped into his throat. Next page; _‘I am broken,’_ scrawled haphazardly across an image of lightning across the sky. “Oh, amor.”

He could see the progression of how her mind had begun to twist, and deep depression had settled into her. A picture of Cat splayed on his back in a patch of sunlight, _‘I want to die and be reincarnated as a cat.’_ A suicidal ideation disguised as a jest; so many unseen cries for help.

“Nyla.” He whispered, turning the page. A picture of Nyla hugging her knees on a bed. It looked much like a hospital. Small bed, plain walls, a single chair in the corner. “Tell me about this picture.”

 

 _“It’s none of your fucking business, Fergus!” Nyla raged at him._  
  
_“Nyla, you tried to kill yourself and it’s not my business? Let me find you help.”_

_“I did NOT try to kill myself!”_

_“You took all of these,” he held the empty bottle up and shook it, “with a bottle of whiskey, now tell me exactly, what were you trying to do?”_

_She looked at the floor and spoke with a shrug, “Get fucked up?”_

_“I have never heard those words out of your mouth in my entire life.” He let it go, and pleaded with her, “Let me find help for you. I’ll do all of it. I’ll make the calls… I promise to get the best money can buy.”_

_“There is no cure for… I’m fine! God damn!” She stormed to the other side of her room, running shaking hands through her hair. “Fergus... just fucking get out.”_

_He paused and watched her pace. “If you don’t go willingly, I will make you go.”_

_“Bullshit.” Nyla glared angrily at him._

_“All I have to do is make a call.” He met her angry stare with his own._

_She stormed up close to him. “Bullshit,” she spat “Don’t threaten me as if I don’t know how the system works, how therapy works. I’m not a fucking child you can intimidate. Get out of my fucking room.”_

_“Alright, look, I don’t want to fight. You need help.” The pain in his stare as he backed away did not phase her; this was not the little sister he knew and loved. “You’ve changed, Nyla.”_

_“And you haven't,” she scowled, letting her disgust show. “How fucked is that?”_

 

“I made one attempt with pills and alcohol… then a woman held me from… a jump. I didn’t know she was there. She had her young son call…” She ran a hand through her hair, remembering the care the strangers showed, the questions they asked… so loving. _“Fuck,_ so humiliating. I spent several months in this facility. My brother liked my haircut, said it suited me.”

“Shit.” His lips quivered and he absently caressed the picture. Long locks which once reached the small of her back rested at shoulder length. An empty stare. Curled in on herself, hugging herself. “Shit.”

He closed the book as if he had seen the end, as if the next picture wasn’t of himself smiling broadly with abject love in his stare. _‘Hola, amor. Sneaking up on me_ ?’ looking up from a sketchbook that he immediately snapped shut when he noticed her standing there. Words by Rilke, her favorite poet, scrawled in her hand beneath it; _‘You help me realize how beautiful my world is.’_

Holding the book in his hands, he looked up at her, _where to begin?_ Emotions bottlenecked, leaving him stuck and staring at her lovely, innocent face. His lips parted, poised to speak but words wouldn’t come. _I love you, I want to protect you and I wish I could have, I’m so glad you’re alive, I’m so sorry this happened, I’m sorry it hurt too much, I’m sorry you have no tribe, I wish your heart didn’t get shattered, you’re too precious for this, you didn’t deserve this, none of this is your fault._

“What to say, right?” Nyla watched his forlorn stare as he brushed the book with gentle fingertips. “You remind me of myself, watching you on the rooftop, wondering what to say or do.” Retrieving the book from his hands, she set it aside. _You didn’t see the end,_ she wanted to say, but… “You didn’t see the end,” she spoke softly, because taking risks and laying herself bare are simply, her jam.

“Oh,” he spoke softly, and retrieved the book, flipping it open.

He could see the appeal of the picture she chose, even though he was just sitting there in a simple t-shirt and shorts with his hair in a messy bun, haphazardly pulled up so he could just get started with his drawing. He had never seen himself this way, his smile, his eyes, just for her; apparently smiling for the camera and smiling for your woman are two entirely different things.

“The day we met, you encouraged me to dance when I needed to.” Nyla said with a shy smile, “You have inspired me.” Leaning her head on his shoulder she spoke softly, “You help me realize how beautiful my world is.”

Turning his head to look at her, their lips a mere inch apart, he whispered, “Same, amor,” and he had never loved anyone or anything so deeply in his entire life. “You seem so still. So calm,” he cupped her cheek, stroking her with his thumb. “I don’t know how you are this calm.”

Taking Zevran’s hand from her cheek, Nyla rested it on her heart so he could feel her heart pounding, sounding in her ears, a soft smile on her lips. “Only calm on the outside.”  

Zevran put the book aside and grabbed her, held her to himself, laid down with her and held her ear to his heart with a gentle palm. “You withhold too much. Crying is good for you.”

“I’ve cried enough.” Her voice quivered despite herself, and she tried to mask it with laughter. “I dropped my phone in the ocean by accident, so I couldn’t text you.”

Brushing his fingers through her hair, he felt the tension she held in her body, subtle trembling, her breath shallow. “God dammit, Nyla. Why is your luck so bad?”

“It’s mostly my own stupidity.” She chuckled, eyes misty.

He kissed her head. “Tell me what happened on the doorstep that made you cry.”

“Something funny, actually.” She laughed again, to fight the tears. “Leliana said _I’m sorry, Nyla. He’s gone._ ” Chest convulsing momentarily from withheld tears, she added, “It’s funny in hindsight, anyway. Of all the words-”

“Not funny, amor.” His heart _ached_ and his eyes hurt with the need to cry. “Today is your birthday, the anniversary of the tragic death of your family. You dropped your phone in the ocean, fell down and scraped your knees, got caught in a rainstorm, and for one horrifying moment you believed you lost the person closest to you, _again._ Nyla, none of this is funny. _”_

“It is.” She couldn’t stay still, her body vibrating with emotion after hearing him recount the story; withholding tears became almost impossible. “It’s funny in that, like, tragic way-” she hiccupped. “Fuck. It’s been two years, I shouldn’t feel like this.”

He rolled them onto their sides so he could hold her more snug against himself. With a gentle finger crooked beneath her chin he encouraged her to look at him. “Nyla, it does not matter when it happened. You do not have to legitimize your feelings to anyone, there is no time-table for when one should be done healing. You _know_ this. Those were _your_ words to _me._ ”

Her nose began to tickle with impending tears. “I don’t want to feel this anymore.”

“Feel what?” He challenged her, moving his hand from her chin to stroke her hair.

Staring into soft, golden-brown eyes for a long moment, she considered the question, faces of everyone loved and lost flashed before her eyes and it all came crashing down on her. “This,” she whimpered, only feeling it more keenly when Zevran nodded as if he understood the storm brewing within her.

Feeling into her body, hot and vibrating, temples throbbing and chest aching, Nyla whispered absently, “It feels like my heart is constricted. Wrapped in chains.”

“So break them.” Zevran whispered, resting his forehead against hers as her breath grew erratic, and she began to cry. “Yes. Like that.”

With Zevran’s earnest encouragement, all the weight she had been carrying seemed to fall away; the relief, a sense of freedom washed over her and Nyla wept, overwhelmed by sweetness and gratitude. It wasn’t hard, it didn’t hurt, it felt graceful and easy and the impulse to apologize never arose. Lips pressed against her lips, her cheeks, along her forehead; relentless, gentle kisses all over her face and neck reminding her of love as she let herself purge.

“Kissing it better.” He whispered when she giggled through her tears. “It seems to be working.”

With a nod, she let go a little more. “I miss them still. My mom and dad. The mandatory Sunday family brunches and holiday gatherings. My nephew and his obsession with deadly weapons, Oriana and her incessant singing. My brother, and his doting and over-protection. The sweet familiarity and comfort of being close to Alistair, the sense of peace he carried and spread wherever he went. I wasn’t ready.”

Relentless kissing ceased and he meet her eyes with a serious gaze.“No one could ever prepare for something like that.”

“The gratitude is confusing.” Moving her hand from where it rested on his chest, she cupped his cheek. “If I hadn’t lost everything, I would never have met you.”

“Same,” he whispered, and she kissed him. She didn’t stop kissing him, and she balled her fists in his shirt, pulling, guiding him on top of her.

 _Uh oh,_ Zevran thought as things became more heated and she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his shorts. Familiar with the nuances of body language, especially when it came to sex and when someone was an open invitation, he slowed things down.

Gently grabbing her hands from where they tugged at his waistband, he kissed them hugging her close; kisses on her forehead, gentle kisses on her lips, Zevran offered much needed affection without crossing their carefully constructed boundaries. It would be a shame for their first time to occur because she had made a hasty decision under emotional duress; it wasn’t right, no matter how badly he wanted it with her. Holding her tight, he pulled the blankets snug around them so they lay together in a plush cocoon; within moments he could hear the steady rhythm of her breath, sound asleep.

* * *

Art by [@slugette](http://slugette.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you remember a while back when I was all "This chapter is porn"?
> 
> I lied. _This_ chapter is porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late! I had this thing where stuff was supposed to happen, but you know _Zevran,_ just makes everything go over the top amazing and creates more work for me. 
> 
> Don't blame me. Blame Zevran. (Hopefully the extended scene makes up for the tardiness that ZEVRAN CAUSED.)  
> I didn't really incorporate songs into the chapter very well, but I will share the 3 songs I listened to while Zevran was turning Nyla int a hot mess.
> 
> 1\. "I wanna be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys  
> 2\. "Feeling Good" by Michael Buble  
> 3\. "Stayin' Alive" by Say Lou Lou

“Amor?” He spoke gently, tapping her on the nose, tired of waiting for her to wake. Having already sketched her sleeping in his bathrobe, made her breakfast and coffee, surely ten hours of sleep had been enough. “Amor.” His fingers glided across her forehead. “Amor.” Lifting her arm, he gently nipped her fingers. “Amor.”

Waking up to something to giggle about was the best. “Hey.” Nyla giggled, pulling her hand away for a sleepy stretch. “Why are you biting me?”

“I would be doing more, but I am waiting for you to come out of that fucking coma you call sleep.” He smiled, running hands along her outstretched arms, lacing his fingers with hers and hovering over her. “How are you feeling?”

She craned her neck to kiss him, and he smiled, playfully backing away from her advance. “Kiss me, Zevran, or I will destroy you.”

“Ooo. Nyla really knows how to get Zevran all worked up.” He chuckled. “Answer the question first.”

Nyla closed her eyes and smiled. “Hmm. Good. Feeling little... raw. Really hungry.”

“Good.” He kissed her, and helped her sit up. “I brought breakfast.”

“I can feel it already, my hair is the best.” Yawning, she scrubbed her face with her palms. “Stop looking at me until I’m pretty again.”

“Bah.” He smiled with a dismissive gesture of his hand. “Everything you do is cute. Zevran’s girlfriend can do no wrong.” He reached over and grabbed her plate of food. “Eat this. I made them for you.”

“Oh my god, you _made_ bacon and egg tacos?” Settling the plate on her lap, she forgot to say thank you and ate hungrily.

He spoke with a shrug and a bashful smile, “It is tortilla with egg and bacon. Not so complicated.”

“But the tortilla is so soft and fresh, oh my god.” With her mouth full she asked, “Did you already eat?”

“Three times already, amor.”  
  
“Because you eat like a bird. All day, incrementally.” She offered him a bite. “I bet you’re hungry again.”

There was something awesome about his woman offering the food he had made for her; it made him want to have rough sex with her. _Is that weird?_ “Thank you,” he muttered with a full mouth.

“I’m sorry for what happened last night.” She paused her eating with a crooked smile.

“We agreed no apologizing, remember?”

“Well… yes but, the whole thing at the end.” Looking away nervously, she sighed, “Trying to pull your shorts off of you, that whole thing?”

“Mmm. It is okay, amor.” Zevran shrugged, “High emotion, needs for comfort and distraction. It made sense to me.”

“You don’t find it terribly obnoxious?” She bit her lip with a sigh. “That I have this boundary and then crossed it?”

“No! You didn’t cross it.” Zevran quirked an eyebrow, “My understanding is that it takes two to cross that boundary. I would consider it a failure on my part if I had simply went along with it. You were compromised, and making the decision for us fell on me, that is what partnership is. When one cannot, the other picks up the slack.”

“You’re a good partner.”

“You are as well.” He smiled, taking the offered last bite of her food. “I am learning through example. Finish your coffee, have a smoke, we need to get started.”

“Started?” She tilted her head and pointed. “Will you hand me my purse there?”

“Zevran’s girlfriend does not have a shitty birthday.” He reached and grabbed the bag, handing it off to her. “Today is birthday do-over.”

Opening her purse and retrieved a piece of nicotine gum. “Oh my god. You don’t have to-” Her face heated. _What the fuck am I saying?_ “Yes, please do that!”

“I will!” He smiled at her delight. “With gusto.”

“No, you don’t understand-” pausing to pop a piece of gum in her mouth she spoke, “I used to fucking love birthdays!”

“This is nicotine gum?” He picked up the foil packet and examined it.

“Yes, I quit a couple days ago. Anyway, I really-”

“Are you quitting because of Zevran’s asthma?”

“Well, I mean, you were a motivational force, but I did need to quit for obvious-”

“I am excited about this, Nyla... and you said _nothing?”_

“Yes, I hear you, I just… I didn’t think it mattered…” Flapping her hands excitedly she tried to change the subject. “Look, I am having feelings right now and this whole quitting talk seems unimportant.”

“Nyla. Nyla.” He held up a hand, interrupting her. “Zevran keeps encouraging you to go outside to do your smoking.”

“I see your point, but-”

“Zevran has a _strong preference_ to know when his girlfriend is making big life changes!”

“Alright!” Nyla chuckled, smiling broadly. “Alright, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you!”

Sputtering, he flopped his hands helplessly onto his lap. “Nyla, Zevran is feeling _a lot_ of things.”

“Are you, now?” She chuckled, placing her empty plate on the bedside table. “I couldn’t tell.”

“I don’t mean it as… as a... I don’t mean to control you, I want to know how to…” He floundered for a moment and resumed his impassioned speech, “I could be helping by not bringing it up so often in trying to accommodate you!”

“Yes! It’s counterproductive!” Nyla sat up on her knees, smiled, and matched his enthusiasm, “Because Zevran just wants those around him to be happy!”

“Amor! _Yes!”_ He relaxed and took a deep breath. _“Thank you!”_

“You’re welcome!” She couldn’t stop smiling. Reaching in front of her, Nyla took his hand in both of hers and kissed it. “You’re blushing.”

“Not possible, all blood has circulated to other areas.” He bit his lip with a smirk.

Nyla licked her lips suggestively and flashed a coquettish smile, “Wanna fool around?”

“No.” He spoke quickly before he lost his resolve, and she appeared taken aback, cocking her head and raising her eyebrows. “Oh, you know I do, amor. Just… not now, I’m reserving sexy energy for later. For when we are at your place.”

“Ohh, so we’re going to my place.”

“After I take you clothes shopping, and then a late lunch, then we come back here to spend time with Leliana and Anders, then to your place.”

“You have it all planned out, hmm?” Biting her lip, she already felt spoiled; she loved it.

“Yep!” He helped her up from the bed. He spoke jovially, taking her by the hand, “Bath time. Come!”

“I wanted to but someone denied me.”

“Stop.” Zevran chuckled, “Save it for later!”

“Why not now _and_ later?” She argued seriously.

“Trust Zevran.” They descended the stairs, and he looked back, smirking. “Though, I do love it when you are needy.”

“Anders. _”_ Leliana spoke, slapping his hand. _“Stop!”_

“I’m making sure it’s good! Taste-testing!”

“Is it good?”

“Yes.”

“Then _stop!”_ Leliana chuckled, slapping his hand away again.

“Morning!” Nyla spoke happily, “What are you making?”

Their answers were hasty, and overlapped.

“Nothing special.”

“Makin’ you a cake.”

“Dammit, Anders! I was trying to be a _little_ stealthy!”

“You didn’t tell me that- ow!” He pulled his hand away as she slapped him with the spatula.

“Now get somewhere and lick it off the back of your hand, you little shit.”

Nyla smiled, looking back at them while Zevran proceeded to drag her toward the bathroom, “Yeah, get off my cake and get somewhere, _Anders!”_

_“Get wrecked, Tiny!”_

 

*******

 

“Why are you telling them this story?” Nyla quirked an eyebrow at Zevran, speaking through a mouthful of chocolate cake with cream cheese icing made from scratch.

“You do not understand the level of cute I am coping with right now, Nyla, let me finish. So Nyla goes into the store to replace her lost phone, and I go buy a few things I do not wish her to see. When I come out from the store, I see her with new phone in hand, earbuds in her ears, and she is dancing.”

“That sounds like something Nyla would do.” Anders shrugged.

“Yes, how exactly is that a surprise?” Leliana asked, taking a sip of tea.

“You do not understand,” Zevran insisted. “Not bobbing her head to music, or shuffling around. She is… _dancing!_ Doing turns, using benches as props to prance across and jump from… dancing with enthusiasm. Amor fancies herself a ballerina today. I wish I had thought to video this so I could show you.”

“Ohh my god.” Leliana chuckled.

“I was bored. I couldn’t believe anyone could possibly take longer than a fucking Verizon store.” Nyla sipped her tea, beginning to feel a little defensive. “I know it’s not _normal_ behavior but nobody _really_ gives a shit when you examine it-”

“Amor, calm your bosom.” Zevran smiled at the cackle he provoked from her.

“Stop saying bosom!”

“Anyway, I am not done. I approach her, waving for her to notice me, and she does not. So I figure, she is into it, I will sit and wait it out. People are simply walking by, as if it is not happening, and there is Zevran, watching this woman, laughing at her antics, probably seeming like a lech now that I think about it.”

“How long were you sitting there?” Nyla bit her lip. “Did I embarrass you?”

Waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, he continued. “Eventually Nyla does notice me sitting there and she is, I don’t know, thirty feet away standing on a bench. She smiles, does a fucking flawless ballerina leap-”

“Grand jeté.” Nyla interrupted.

“A flawless fucking grand jeté-”

“It wasn’t flawless,” she interjected, “I’m unpracticed.”

“Amor, let me live!” Zevran spoke incredulously, quirking an eyebrow.

“Sorry, go on.” She resumed eating her cake.

“A _seemingly_ flawless fucking grand jeté from the bench she was standing on and, I shit you not, takes a running start and does an epic knee-slide, stopping precisely between my feet. Arms open as if posing after a finishing move.”

“Ohhh my god.” Leliana sat still, a forkful of cake hovering halfway to her mouth.

“What…” Anders furrowed his brow and shook his head. “I can’t believe I missed it.”

“What song was it?” Leliana asked.

“Bohemian Rhapsody.” Her face felt hot when they laughed hard. “It’s my second favorite song. Fuck off, who doesn’t love Queen?”

“That is an _epic song,_ Sketchbook Girl, I’m just… imagining you dancing to a fucking power ballad _nobody else can hear, oh my god!”_ Anders lost it, laughing raucously and burying his face in his hands. _“I can’t!”_

“Nyla concludes her spectacle by removing her earbuds, resting her elbows on my thighs and flirting with me at full volume. _‘Hello, love, find what you are looking for?’”_

“I was deafened by having the music so loud.” She sighed, biting her lip. “Dancing makes me horny.”

“Ohhh my god. I had no idea one person could contain so few fucks.” Anders stared at her in awe. “Where did all your fucks go?”

Nyla put down her fork and tucked her hands in her lap. “My fiance and entire immediate family, excluding my brother, all died in a hotel fire.” She smiled, sighed deeply, pleased with herself for saying it all so easily; two years of therapy hadn’t accomplished that for her. “And oh yeah, I also kinda almost died of smoke inhalation and got pretty badly burned. That was two years ago, yesterday.”

“What?” Leliana dropped her fork, glancing at Anders.

“I’m sorry.” Anders put his fork down, losing his appetite for cake. “Last night makes sense.”

“Yeah. I tried to spend the day alone. It was largely a disaster, I was putting pressure on myself to just feel okay but I wasn’t. Last night shouldn’t have happened, I should have accepted support. I feel a lot better today. Better than I have in a long time.” Nyla smiled, “Anyway, my point was, when I lost my family is exactly when I lost my fucks.”

“Nyla saying this without almost crying.” Zevran smirked, proud of her, and himself. “We are ridiculously awesome.”

“Thanks for noticing.” She bit her lip, smiled, and Zevran jumped up from his seat when her toes curled against his inner thigh.

“Nice aim, amor, let us clean up and we will get going.”

“You and I will clean, Nyla and Leliana are going to have some wine and relax in the livingroom.”

“How… nice. Thank you, Anders.” Leliana furrowed her brow and walked to the living room with Nyla, wine in hand. “I can’t believe he’s doing chores without death threats.”

“So many beverages.” Nyla sat on the couch with a contented sigh. “You guys are always drinking something. I don’t think there has been a time when I have come in here and not had a beverage or three shoved in my face.”

“Hm. I had never noticed.” Leliana shrugged, “We’re just hospitable, I suppose. Hey… so... I have noticed lately you stopped calling us Lelianders.”

“Well, I was getting actual vitriol from you. It was never my intent to cause you that level of distress, so I dropped it.”

“Thanks.” Leliana sighed, staring at the wine in her hand. “Can I, um, talk to you about it?”

“Ooh.” Nyla sat closer to Leliana, sitting cross legged on the couch and facing her with a grin. “Yes.”

“And you won’t blather on about it, and openly talk as if it’s not a secret?”

“Other people’s secrets are not mine to share. Unless they’re Zevran’s. I own him now.” Nyla spoke with seriousness.

“Okay, wait.” Leliana chuckled nervously, “You’re joking, right?”

“Mmm hmm.” Nyla sipped her wine and smiled. “Tell meee!”

“It seemed while you were teasing us with the Lelianders thing, Anders may have been fighting you off for _my_ sake. Did Anders seem a bit _too_ okay with it?”

“Well, no, not at all.” Nyla smirked at the subtle disappointment and embarrassment in Leliana’s expression, giving her a few moments to digest and reflect. “He seemed the perfect amount of okay with it.”

“God damnit, Nyla.” Leliana blushed the cutest shade of pink and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m just trying to figure out how to _fix this_ . He seems distant. He’s… it’s so hard to explain because it’s subtle. I _feel_ him being distant, and at the same time, he’s cleaning the kitchen after volunteering to do chores.”

Nyla flapped her hand, and coughed, choking on her wine; this was exciting. “Oh lord. What do you imagine is going on?” _She asked knowingly,_ Nyla thought, trying to maintain her serious face.

“Well.” Leliana leaned in closer, speaking in hushed tones, “I think he um... _likes_ me.”

“Mmm! You think so?” Nyla’s words were not her thoughts, but they were close enough. _Jesus Christ, Leliana, YOU THINK???_ “That’s what I was thinking.” She spoke quietly, “What do you want, though?”

“I want my fucking friend back.” She glared, continuing in a hushed voice. “I don’t know how to _fix_ this!”

Nyla responded patiently, and just as silently, “Well, hold on. Think about it; you have been together for six years, if you examine this at _all…_ you have both been dating others and hating each other's love interests...” Nyla paused for thought, holding Leliana’s rapt attention. “ _God,_ it’s like… you both want romance, right? Meanwhile, you’re holding each other at arm's length, at the same time clinging to each other... have you ever wondered why you’re _both_ chronically single?”

“Bullshit,” Leliana whispered angrily. “He and I were _fine,_ and now _this!_ I try not to blame you but it started after that night you and Zevran had your conversation about us on the couch.”

“You participated in that, Leli.” Nyla insisted, her voice still at a whisper. “You spoke as if you were already _in_ a romantic relationship.”

 _“Bullshit.”_ Leliana shook her head. “It might sound like one from the outside, but it’s _not.”_

“Despite whether or not you want to admit it, your words could have lead Anders to believe _you_ see it as a possibility. And it _is!_ You are both so fucking... _possessive_ of each other _.”_

“We just take care of each other!” Leliana responded, exasperated.

“I don’t mean it as a bad thing... Leliana, I’m not trying to bullshit you here, or push you into anything.” Nyla spoke gently, meeting her eyes. “Seriously, think hard about what you want with Anders, because there is an opportunity here and if you don’t take it… you stand to miss out on so much.”

“Bullshit!” Leliana shook her head. “Six years of no romance and solid friendship, it’s too late for that between us.”

“Or-” Nyla gestured with a palm for her to stop, “It has always fucking been there, and he’s waking up to it.”

In the kitchen, Anders and Zevran had finished stacking up the dirty dishes. Zevran smirked at Anders actually _volunteering_ to do this chore, fighting the urge to tease him for it; Nyla gave him enough shit for the both of them on the regular.

“I wash, you dry.” Zevran asserted, continuing in hushed tones. “Did you get it all finished?”

“Yes, her apartment is literally barren, Zev. You weren’t exaggerating.”

“I know. It is depressing.”

“Cat is adorable. Such a sweet, talkative boy,” Anders smiled. “Hey why did you want only one chair? You trying to sneak furniture into her house one item at a time?”

“Very funny.” He smirked. “We only need one chair. I’m going to dance for her tonight.”

“Oh shit!” Anders laughed loudly, “It’s going to kill her. Speaking of killing her, did you show her the sketch-”

“Shhhhhh!” Zevran elbowed him, and craned his neck to see Nyla and Leliana sitting close, having what appeared to be a very serious conversation. “No, tall asshole, I have not. Do not tell her for me.”

“Seriously, though. You should show her,” Anders spoke quietly.

“No.” Zevran shook his head. “It might give her the wrong idea.”

“What?” Anders laughed. “Like, that you’re completely infatuated with her?”

“The drawings, they go so far back.” He cringed, remembering how much sleep he had lost over his obsession with her. “Before I had her. Before I truly knew her. Before I had actually seen her naked.”

“So, you’re afraid of coming off as a creeper?”

“Exactly.”

“Come on.” Anders elbowed him. “She knows you better by now. You can’t keep it a secret forever.”

 

*******

 

“Do not wait up,” Zevran spoke with a wink before closing the car door.

Anders rolled down and yelled as the car pulled away, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Wait! I need a bulleted list!” Nyla called back.

Zevran smirked at Nyla and took her hand. “Come.”

“I will if you keep smiling like that.” She hurried with him, excitement building.

“I am going to do _much_ more than smile at you,” he purred, opening her apartment door with his key, and stepping aside for Nyla to enter first.

“Cat!” She called out immediately, flicking on the lights and stopping short in the kitchen. “Zevran, did you move my beanbag chair?” Nyla strode into the living room, staring at her beanbag chair stuffed into a corner. Cat gave her a cursory glance and ran to Zevran. “What the ffff- Zevran, there’s a chair here. Zevran, someone reverse-robbed me. I have been anti-robbed. I hate this more than the other one.”

“Anders and Leli dropped the chair off, among other hidden things.” Zevran laughed as Cat mewed for his attention, “Cat, tell your mamá to calm her bosom.”

“Stop saying bosom,” she spoke absently, kicking off her shoes and looking around the room for anything else amiss, wondering how much hidden junk could be crammed in her house, trying to imagine what they would do with a single chair; she sat in it, confounded.

“Good. Right where I want you.” Zevran smiled, and she blinked at him with a furrowed brow. _How has she not figured out what the hell I am up to?_

“Stay right here?”

“Mmm hmm. No peeking.” He picked up her xBox controller and set up his playlist. Looking back at her, she sat still with her eyes averted. “I am going to play a song as I present you with your gift. In… ten minutes or less.” _Songs for dancing, songs for more dancing, and songs for sex._

“Okay.” Nyla smiled, excited, feeling more relaxed now that she knew what was going on; _how romantic!_

After dimming the lights, he hurried to the bedroom, and prepared; there wasn’t much to do. Quick change of clothes after lotioning his body to give him a nice sheen. A quick check in the mirror he put on his black fedora, smirked at himself and strutted into the livingroom.

“Ooh, nice outfit.” Nyla bit her lip. “You look _hot_ in that hat. Is my present getting to look at you?”

“Yes, amor.” Pressing play, the music started, and he smiled, holding a hand out to her with a small bow. “Dance with me?”

Taking his hand, she allowed him to lead; a slow dance, an arm around her waist, her hand dwarfed within his, but this still didn’t explain the chair. _I just wanna be yours…_ the song crooned, and she smiled, meeting his eyes and pressing herself close against him as they moved together.

“I like this song you’ve chosen.” Nyla smiled, moving the hand on his shoulder to rest on the back of his neck. Slow, graceful, Zevran was a good lead, and she was glad, because slow dancing with a partner had never been her thing. He moved his hips, spinning them together. Nyla tried to follow his lead but his moves were seemingly becoming erratic, and she felt almost _herded_ as her calves hit the back of the chair and she plunked down in it. The song ended and she giggled up at him, “Well played, sir.”

A wink and a crooked smile, he nodded, backing away and turning his back toward her. Zevran had calculated a six second break before the next song started and he took a deep breath, twinges of nervous excitement tickling through him. Getting her to the chair and getting into position went flawlessly, and the hard part was over. Next up, making her scream.

“Ooh.” Nyla’s eyes went wide as the next song began and he spun on his heel to face her; a classy, fancy turn with one foot over the other and she was already impressed. Pressing her cool hands to her burning cheeks, she gasped, realizing she had never seen him dance on his own. “Oh my god.” _Zevran dances!_

His girlfriend’s mouth hung open, cheeks pink, and he could swear he heard a little squeak from her when he drew his fingers along the brim of his hat. Flipping the hat from his head with nimble fingers, he ran his hand through his hair and flipped it back on. Just dancing for her, hips undulating with masculine grace, hands hovering inches from himself, Nyla’s eyes were following them, and he drew them down his body suggestively, but not _too_ suggestively. Her mouth fell open, and her eyes hungrily wandered his body.

If Nyla had any capacity for coherent thought, she would have absolutely thought, at great length, of how well executed this performance was. Enchanting, sexy, classy, graceful, exotic, showcasing his masculinity without being lewd.

In reality, the only thoughts she had room for within the cacophony of wailing in her mind were, _‘Fucking… Zevran. TAKE IT OFF!’_ She swallowed thickly, enchanted by a display of utter perfection, until his hat sailed across the room with a flick of his wrist, her gaze drifting off with it before her attention snapped back to him.

The song changed, the tempo faster, a song by ‘Say Lou Lou,’ lovely female voices singing _‘Stayin’ Alive.’_ Nyla squealed with gleeful laughter, stopping short when he lifted his shirt. Turning to the side, his stomach muscles rippled with the enticing movement of hips. Nyla legit screamed, and in trying to cover her mouth accidentally slapped her own face with an open palm; it was okay, she thought, because she kind of needed it.

His shirt lifted even higher, and Nyla forgot to breathe, basking in the glowing expanse of Zevran’s tawny skin, the poor girl rendered completely useless to even herself. Shirt lifting higher, slipping over his head, golden hair splayed over muscular shoulders. Twirling the shirt in front of himself, over his head, he casually tossed it away and suddenly- Nyla got it. It had finally clicked; Zevran was fucking stripping for her, and the internal wailing could no longer be contained.

 _“Fuck yaaas!”_ Nyla whistled, howled, and bounced in her chair. _“Oh my fucking god!”_

That was exactly what Zevran wanted, _expected,_ and he proceeded with more enthusiasm. Thumbs in his belt loops, he flexed, moving his hips, a quick spin, stopping to show off from a different angle. Nyla squealed again, only gaining in volume as he drew a palm down his oiled chest and slid his fingers in the waistband of his pants for just a teasing moment.

Laughing happily, Zevran spun on his heel, a quick clap of his hands, he danced like John Travolta, a video he studied that morning while she slept, finding the moves to be the perfect accompaniment to his shirtless form; slow, with plenty of pauses, giving her a chance to drink him in with her big dark eyes, enough movement to show off the masculinity that enticed her so.

Stopping in front of her with a wide stance, Zevran turned to the side, one knee bent. He rested a hand with splayed fingers on his abdomen, his other arm extended pointing, a repeated pelvic thrust and a cocky smirk made her nearly fall out of her chair.

 _“Oh no!”_ Nyla kicked her legs and cheered in gleeful excitement as he tugged on his belt. _“Fucking yes!”_ It was becoming increasingly more trying to stay in her chair.

Turning toward her, belt undone, he tugged, sliding it only halfway out of the confines of his belt loops. Holding the extended length his hand, he stroked it with a closed fist at a leisurely pace. Tossing his head back, he stared at her with parted lips and heavy lidded eyes, as if in the throes of pleasure.

The knuckle of Nyla’s forefinger was between her teeth as her dark eyes flitted from his waistline to his face, having just seen the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed in her life. She thought it was, anyway, until he removed the belt completely and wrapped it around his fists, tethering his hands together, raising his arms and posing for her. Teasing, short moments of her favorite parts of him showcased in the most pleasing of ways; muscles tightening, his hips and stomach undulating with erotic, suggestive grace. After far too few moments of this, Zevran unwrapped his hands and held it on either end; another way to display himself as he raised his arms over his head and pulled on either end of the leather in his fists.

“Fucking hell.” Nyla spoke, her arms falling helplessly to her sides. “Oh my god,” she whimpered, finally taking a breath when he draped the belt over the back of his neck. She thought for a moment she was going to get a break, until his hands slid down his torso and he unbuttoned his black slacks, slid his zipper down to reveal his bright red briefs; Nyla had begun to sweat more than her dancer.

Smiling at her, he watched his poor girlfriend tremble and close her eyes for a moment, drawing the back of her hand across her damp forehead. He heard her moan as he nudged his pants down, displaying for her what she referred to reverently as “The V.” Her mouth fell open, her eyes followed the movement of his hips and his arms as if she couldn’t decide where they needed to be.

Next, his favorite part. Backing away from her slowly to put a little more distance between them, he bent down and grabbed the inner thigh of his slacks. He couldn’t wait, he knew she was going to love this, his eyes stayed on her face as he held the fabric in his fists and pulled, tearing them off of himself and throwing them away over his shoulder.

 _“Ohhh god!”_ Nyla squealed, she laughed, clapped, whistled, kicked her legs in sheer excitement and fell out of her chair. _“Why do you own tear away pants?! Oh my god,”_ she screamed from where she sat on the floor, knowing it was pointless to even attempt to use her legs after what he was putting her through. It was almost too much when he came toward her, a smile on his face, chuckling at her. He reached for her and she took his hands, allowing him to pull her up on unsteady legs.

This part he had not planned, so he just got creative, holding his poor girlfriend’s arms over her head, her wrists in one hand, one arm around her waist, he continued his dance, manipulating her back into her chair and his face hovered inches from hers. “Amor,” he purred, tugging the belt from around his neck, “If you won’t stay in your chair, Zevran will have to make you.”

In one swift movement he was behind her, belt wrapping around her wrists, tethering her loosely to the chair with her arms behind her back. He enjoyed tying her down a bit too much, and took advantage of her compromised position, sweeping her hair out of the way to nibble and brush his nose along the side of her neck; she shuddered. So much dancing, exposing himself to her, witnessing her keen attention and appreciation for his body, touching himself, and taking a minute to touch her… Zevran had not anticipated enjoying himself so much, or being so skilled.

Turning to face her, he bent down to kiss her plump lips; they looked too good, and he needed the indulgence after getting himself so worked up. Nyla moaned as his erection rubbed momentarily against her knee and her neck craned subtly toward him as he backed away from her to resume his dance.

With movement restricted, Nyla had no means of expressing her enthusiasm and desire, and she sat still, watching. His hand brushed through his hair sending golden wisps cascading down to frame his face. His movements, stylish or sexy, it didn’t matter, she was stuck in awe and desire, her legs quivering, moisture accumulating, and breath heavy… she wondered what she had done in her life to deserve such pleasurable torment.

Just when she imagined it couldn’t possibly get any more amazing, he dropped down to his hands as if to do pushups, a display of Zevran’s agility, strength and grace she rarely had opportunity to witness.

 _“Floor work,”_ Nyla groaned, because her brain had completely stopped and her mouth just needed to do something. Zevran did a pushup, another, and then another with an exaggerated roll of his hips. _Oh my fucking god, lucky floor._ Nyla moaned, his hips rolled, holding himself up with muscular arms, his head tossed back and he looked over at her with a lusty stare; she came, her body folding in on itself and knees quivering. He crawled toward her and her legs subtly parted; an invitation for him to touch her, which he wanted to do so badly. The song ended, and it didn’t matter because they were done with it anyway.

“Will you untie me now?” Nyla purred as he advanced toward her, his palms gliding along the denim on her legs. “I need to everything you.”

“With your permission, amor,” he spoke breathlessly, leaning in for a kiss, “I want you right where I have you, for now.”

“I accept your invitation as long as you keep touching me,” she whispered, and he kissed her ravenously, a hand at the small of her back pulling her toward him, the other working at the zipper of her jeans.

With his girlfriend tied helplessly to a chair, his hand down the back of her jeans to cup her ass, erection trapped behind his briefs, he moaned against her mouth and he had never been so aroused and ready to fuck anyone since… weeks ago when they first danced salsa together. He wanted to fuck her so badly, he almost had no idea what else to do; he slowed down and placed his attention on her pleasure.

Pulling her jeans off of her, she sat in the dark purple, lace panties he bought for her, and he leaped upon her again, a hand in her hair, a hand on her ass, he could feel the heat and moisture through both garments, and he moaned with her.

Nyla’s feet pressed hard on the floor, leverage to arch her back, pressing herself more firmly against him. Zevran’s hand wandered up her shirt, touching her all over, making her moan and struggle briefly against her confines.

“If you wish to be unbound, you say pepper,” he whispered, nipping her lip and drawing his fingers gently along her heat. Nyla nodded with a whimper, moving her hips, a frustrating layer of cloth keeping her from his touch.

 _“Fuck.”_ She groaned, so close to coming at just the slightest touch, frustrated moans as she rolled her hips and he smirked at her, recognizing her desperation.

Running his hand along her thighs being mindful of her tattoo - which seemed to be healing quite well - he kissed her mouth, her neck, and her head tossed back; Zevran indulged in his opportunity to have her at his whims. Hands wandered, and he knelt between her legs, her hands still bound behind her and her ass on the edge of the chair. Parting her thighs and kissing her from knee to heat, she whimpered, groaning when he pressed his mouth against her, tonguing her through her panties.

“God, that’s so frustrating!” She panted, never having spent so long on the cusp of orgasm. He nibbled her inner thigh, his nose pressing against her clit. _“Fuck!”_ Rolling her hips provided no further contact, and no relief, and in her strong desire to reach for him Nyla had forgotten about the belt holding her to the chair. _Dammit!_ She chuckled breathlessly and let her body go slack; his hands wandering up her shirt, pulling her bra down to bare her breasts so he could palm them as he kissed her belly, working his way back down to her heat, nibbling on her through soaked panties.

Nobody had ever done this for her; made her so unbearably aroused, teased her so completely in such a way that she became infinitely more needy. Zevran could do anything he wanted right then, and she would be an absolute yes, but all he did was tease; her skin on fire, bosom heaving, her breath coming in desperate gasps, whimpers and moans. Biting her inner thigh caused her to yelp, and at first, Nyla wasn’t sure what to make of it. The sharpness of the stinging sensation faded, and she looked down at him with wide eyes.

“Bite me again.”

“Oh?” He smirked, gently kissing her along her inner thigh, trying to find whether or not she liked to be bitten, surprised, or both; he bit her again.

“Fuck.” She startled, whimpering as the pain dulled to a pleasant throbbing sensation akin to an orgasm. Pulling against the confines around her wrist again, she grew frustrated, she needed to touch him, this was too much, “Pepper.”

“Yes, amor,” he responded gently, watching her face for any signs of genuine distress. He hadn’t intended to play like this, or he would have prepared her more. “Zevran is untying you now,” he spoke reassuringly as he moved behind her. The belt was loose, he had no issues undoing what he had done, and the moment he freed her she stood up, facing him. He had intended to check in with her, but she had already leaped upon him, her legs around his waist, arms around the back of his neck; apparently, his girlfriend was fine.

The relief of feeling him against her chest, in her arms was even more satisfying after being deprived of it so long and she whined with the strain of it, kissing him ravenously. Strong hands cupped her ass and held her against him, returning kisses with matched fervor. Under other circumstances, Zevran would have absolutely fucked this woman against the nearest wall. Instead, he carried her, kissing her the whole way to the bedroom, dropping to his knees at the foot of the mattress on her floor.

Helping her out of her shirt, he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, kissing her neck, laying her on her back leaving them both in only their underwear. The whole of his weight resting on top of her, kissing her eager mouth, their bodies writhing together, Zevran had never in his life put so much effort into _not_ fucking someone; he was pretty sure this was not any easier for her.

Reaching between their bodies, he ran a hand down her generous bosom, along her smooth belly and into her panties. Sliding his fingers between her folds, he kept going, the tip of two fingers resting at her entrance. He had never finger fucked her before, but he had never offered, and she had never asked. As he had anticipated, Nyla rolled her hips, fingers sliding a little inside of her.

“Oh my god.” She moved her hips again, clinging to his shoulders and whining; he pushed his fingers further into her, indulging in imagining what it would feel like to feel that soft, wet pussy around him; his dick throbbed painfully beneath the confines of his briefs. Before he _really_ had any opportunity to do anything to her, she was trembling, calling out his name, her heat constricting around his fingers. It was disappointingly easy, and unreasonably thrilling.

Still hovering over her, watching her tremble, covered in a sheen of sweat, panting and calming from her orgasm he pulled his hand from her panties and met her heated gaze. On impulse he brushed her lip with his wet fingers and she took them into her mouth hungrily, making him groan and purr things in Spanish, that, as usual, Nyla could not understand but still found incredibly sexy. Somehow, Zevran had not expected something so kinky out of her, and he kissed her deeply, his tongue meeting hers where her subtle sweetness lingered.

“Hey.” Nyla managed to slow down the action so she could ask for what she wanted; something she had been fantasizing about for a few days. “Take those off, and get on your knees right there.” She pointed to the floor at the edge of the mattress, licking her lips in anticipation of his cock in her mouth. Pulling off her soaked panties, she laid on her back, her head hanging over the side of the bed; smiling up at him, and he smirked back.

“Kinky, amor,” he purred as she spit on her hand and grabbed his cock. “Holy shit,” he chuckled, groaning at the sensation of slow strokes along his length, moving a little closer to her mouth, which he was eager for. He asked playfully, “You going to use that mouth, or is my girlfriend going to tease me all night?”

Taking him into her mouth, she giggled when he shuddered and groaned, running his hands all over her. Palming her breasts, moving his hips slowly, her mouth was soft and wet and this new experience of her tickled down his spine, making him moan for her. So much desire and love, so much _kink;_ he mindlessly whispered in Spanish.

Nyla’s unoccupied hand reached for her heat, and Zevran looked over his shoulder to check for her vibrator, normally plugged into the wall. Reaching for it he wondered, why had they never used this together before? Why didn’t he know her favorite setting already?

He turned it on the lowest setting, indicating its presence with a touch to the back of her hand. He intended to hand it to her but she misunderstood his invitation, and decided to let him do it, utilizing her free hand in fondling his balls; yes, her plan was much better. Zevran groaned, gently gliding the tip of her soft pink vibrator around her clit. Her rolling hips and enthusiastic mouth and hands told him to keep going.

Letting go of his cock with one hand, she reached back and grabbed his ass, guiding his movements; he moaned at the new depths, her tongue brushing against his most sensitive places, the soft back of her throat making him shudder and send more tingling sensations down his spine. He let her control the pace; it was slow, leisurely, and driving him crazy. He waited patiently for her to move him faster, indulging in the frustrating slowness and sensations of need, grunting and groaning, one hand gliding along her soft breasts, the other holding the vibrator still as she moved her hips. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to throw her down on the bed and pound her, and even with her mouth feeling as amazing as it did, he could not keep up with her.

Her hips moved erratically, legs splayed wide open with her knees in the air, it was too sexy. This whole thing was too sexy, and Zevran pulled from her soft mouth to finish it sexy; to do anything else would be a disservice to their experience. Grabbing himself in his fist, he finished himself off so he could come with her; Nylas mouth on his balls, he groaned, leaving a mess on her breasts, and a perfect line all the way past her navel. By the time he was done making the mess - a very sexy mess he stored in his memory for the lonelier times - Nyla had turned off the vibrator and tossed it aside. Her hands lovingly caressed his legs, and she giggled intermittently.

“This is a great view, love, but I really miss seeing your face.” Nyla spoke playfully, and the stars in Zevran’s vision had just begun to clear. Standing on wobbly legs, he chuckled and caught himself with a palm on the wall; in a moment, Nyla was standing in front of him. “You alright?” She asked softly, a hand on his heart, the other lovingly stroking his cheek.

“Mmm hmm.” Zevran nodded and sighed deeply. He was absolutely fine; sated, in love with the pretty face staring at him with unabashed care, and just wanting to get a towel so he could clean the mess he made.

“Lay down, I’m going to go clean this mess you made.” She smiled and gave him a gentle kiss on the mouth; he looked tired.

Curling up in her bed to wait for her, it seemed only a few short minutes before she had returned. One thing he loved about his girlfriend; often times when she was sated and happy, she would cuddle into his arms and breathlessly giggle herself to sleep.

Zevran squeezed her close, smiling at the sound of her sleepy giggles, kissing her as they dozed. “Happy birthday, amor.”

* * *

This is made by [sagasketchbook](http://sagasketchbook.deviantart.com/) on deviantart. 


	15. Chapter 15

_Hey beautiful_  
_Amor_  
_Nyla_  
_Angel tits_

_Hey_

_A poem for you._

_Zev. Babe. My guy. It’s 3am._

_… I know the time._  
_Our agreement we can text each other whenever, for any reason, still stands, no?_

_Hehe yes I just hoped you would be more selective in the wee hours of the morning.  
Go on, show me. _

_Roses are red_  
_Violets are blue_  
_I am using my hand  
While thinking of you_

_Are you really?_

_Well… earlier._

_Heehehe! I love it. Magical. Let me try._  
_Roses are red._  
_Daisies are white._  
_I’m going to straddle you,_  
_And ride you all night._

_… amor. Your poem is better than my poem, except mine isn’t a lie._

_LOL UGH ZEVRAN STOP!  
Are you just waking, or are you up late painting? _

_Just finished this piece._  
_Dancing tonight?_  
_It is your 3 month anniversary of being Zevran’s girlfriend._

_Omg you’re adorable. I’m so honored. Will you come get me at around seven?_

_At night?_

_Of course at night. Get some sleep, darling. I’m going back to bed.  
_

 

*******

 

“Is this… this is the club we met!” Nyla sat snug against him, an arm draped over her shoulder as the cab pulled up to the curb.

“Mmm hmm! That is where you shook my hand and went to pieces.”

“I didn’t go to pieces!” She spoke incredulously. “Not externally.”

“You were sweating.” He stepped out onto the sidewalk with her. “Licking your lips.” Arms around her waist, he pulled her close and purred, “Undressing Zevran with your eyes. Yes, you externally went to pieces.”

“Well, I stand corrected.” Nyla smiled, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. It really put things into perspective, standing on the sidewalk where they had their first conversation; it felt like so long ago. “What made you follow me outside, that night?”

“Hmm. Well, Nyla was walking toward Zevran, confident with a cocky smile, licking her lips and devouring him with big, dark eyes, bosom wavering with her footsteps. Then she bumped into someone, and ran from the building before I was done with her.”

“So you were intrigued.”

“Very! And then when I came outside you appeared to be hurting, and I wanted something else for you.”

“You cared.” Nyla held him closer. “Why did you care?”

Biting his lip in thought, “I am not sure. It touched me, somehow. Familiar.”

“That makes sense to me, given what I know now. I'm glad you followed me.”

“Okay, now share with me, Nyla's perspective.”

“First off, I died, because you're the hottest man I have ever seen in my life. Then I discovered you have substance, and depth...” She chuckled, staring at lips that would never lose their appeal. “And then I was done for. Did you come to the restaurant to see me, or were you really there just for the endless coffee?”

“So many questions, amor.”

“Are you afraid to answer that one?”

“Si.” Zevran sighed, knowing the further they went into this inquiry, the more he would have to avoid telling her about his obsessive drawing which had never ceased. Zevran could stare at her forever; she was art. “May we speak of it later? I wish to see you dance.”

“Alright, I’ll let it go for now. Let’s dance.” Nyla held his hand and tugged on his arm. “Come on gorgeous, you’re too slow! Oh, sorry. Excuse me.” Nyla tried to walk around a woman who insisted on blocking her path to the door. “Er… hello. I kind of want to walk past you, and your behavior is inhibiting that movement.”

“Haven’t seen you around in a while.” She smirked, staring past Nyla as if she wasn't there. “You haven’t responded to my texts.”

“I blocked your number, Ashley.” Zevran spoke with shrug. “As you know, shaming has never been my thing. Please excuse us.”

Former fuck buddy Ashley asked with subtle undertones of venom, “Is that her? Or is she a new one?”

Nyla glowered at Ashley, knowing the inquiry was more about making her feel shitty than fulfilling any curiosity. “It’s none of your business, or mine. Move, before I move you.”

Shrugging with a frustrated glare Ashley spoke, “Good luck with him.” Walking away, she spoke over her shoulder, “There’s a reason we just pass him around.”

“What?” Nyla glared at the woman’s back and spoke firmly, “Zevran is not a fucking object.”

Ashley turned to walk backward, taunting her with a laugh. “Poor thing can’t keep his dick in his pants, might as well use it while it’s out.”

Nyla saw red, her heart pounding. _“I fucking will!”_

“Nyla. Nyla.” Zevran held her back, surprised. Was Nyla _really_ going to physically assault this person? “Amor. Come on, ignore her.” It seemed to bother Nyla significantly more than it bothered him. “If I knew she was this gross of a human, I never would have fucked her,” Zevran chuckled.

“Don’t…” Nyla yanked her arm from his hand, wide eyed, her heart clenching in her chest. “Why would you say that to me?”

“I am sorry, amor.” He tilted his head at her, “I find myself overwhelmed by the combination of her verbal abuse and your anger. It was a failed jest, and… I just need my best friend with me right now.”

Nyla shook her head and glared at the smug bitch who stopped at the end of the building and lit a cigarette. _It doesn’t help that she’s hotter than me._ Nyla took a calming breath. _Take it easy, Nyla._

“It is not as if my history of promiscuity is some kind of secret, amor… I had no idea my saying that would hurt you like it did.” Cringing at his own attempt at bringing levity, he felt sorry for his girlfriend, given the jealousy issues she contended with.

“I was angry on your behalf and then I got psycho-level jealous when you said that. I know I shouldn’t.”

Smiling and taking her hand, gently toying with her fingers, he let himself be comforted by familiar, dark eyes sparkling with care. “You are not psycho.”

“I’m sorry she said those things to you.” Nyla pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. _I need my best friend with me. “_ I am with you. You are not an object.”

“I am not so sure sometimes, Nyla.” He pulled her into a hug, grateful for her care and her touch. “To others, apparently I am.”

 _“They_ are wrong as fuck,” she insisted with a smile. “What happened between you? Why is she so... pissed off?”

“I said no to her.” Zevran shrugged, relieved his girlfriend had relaxed and invited him to talk about it. “She does not like it when people say no to her. When I told her exactly why I said no, that I am seeing you, she laughed at me, said ‘good luck to her,’ and it was fucking mean. So Zevran blocked her.”

“Oh, shit, love. I’m sorry. Do you want to be here? Want to go to another club?”

“Your offer is sweet and well meaning, however, I like this place, and I am not inclined to let one person run me off. Dancing instead?”

“You going to dance with me?” Pulling from the hug, she took his hand.

He wanted to watch, but if she kept up that smile he would have no choice but to give her whatever she wanted. “Maybe I will dance.”

“Oh, _maybe_ Zevran will dance.” She mimicked his accent. Biting her lip and walking backward, fingers laced with his, she pushed the door open with her shoulders, watching him follow her with his smouldering smirk. Hand-in-hand they walked to the bar, music loud and people dancing on the dance floor.

“The first time I tried to buy you a drink here, you said no.” Zevran spoke close to her ear, resting an arm around her shoulders.

“I didn’t know you and I didn’t feel safe enough to get drunk with you. When you insisted, I felt even more wary.”

“Ah! Yes! That is smart!” He nodded, following up with a cringe, “Although, that is _not at all_ what Zevran had intended.”

“I know that now.” She kissed his cheek. “Tonight, I want Sex on the Beach.”

“Then shall we go find a beach?” Zevran quirked an eyebrow and smirked at her.

With a giggle and snort she spoke, “Sex on the beach after I finish my Sex on the Beach?”

“So you are saying you want two… sexes on the… beaches...”

“Sexes on the beach?” Nyla shrugged with a chuckle.

“Sex on the beaches.” Zevran spoke, just to see if it sounded more right.

Nyla reached for her purse to get out her phone. “We should text Anders, he knows words.”

“He is out to dinner with Leli, let’s ask later.”

“Wait, what kind of dinner?” Nyla tilted her head at him with wide eyes.

“Oh, it is not a date or anything.” He rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand, “But they looked quite nice.”

 _“God damn them!”_ Nyla sighed. “Well, at least they’re… they’re…”

“Doing the same shit as always?”

_“God damn them!”_

Zevran laughed, “Yes! I know these feelings, amor, _years_ of these feelings!” Taking their drinks to where Zevran often stood to do his people watching, they stood close together.

“Congratulations on finishing your painting.” Nyla smiled, leaning on the tall table next to them. “I know you worked hard on it and had to start over.”

“Thank you,” he spoke with a nod and smile. _Please don’t ask about it… please don’t ask-_

“Are you going to tell me what it is? I am excited, you know. I feel a lot of joy when I see your creations. I hope you don’t fear my judgement. It’s not as if I have a trained eye and will seek out mistakes. Or would even feel inclined to point one out if I did.”

“No… amor, no. This one is perfect. I would rather show you, than tell you. Just _saying_ it doesn’t feel right.” He sighed and swallowed, clearing his throat and taking a drink. “Your eye makeup looks amazing tonight.” He moved closer to her. “It does something, makes them look more almond shaped, clearer. You look lovely.”

“Thank you.” She blushed, looking away and biting her lip.

“But you always look beautiful.”

She giggled shyly. “You don’t have to add that every time you compliment me. Oh! I want to dance to this!” Nyla bounced on her heels, “Will Zevran dance?”

“Zevran will watch. Stop with the eyes,” he teased with a smirk, “I promise next time Zevran will dance.”

His answer pleased her and she backed away from him, biting her lip and smiling; she loved it when he watched her dance. Zevran delighted in her movement, her freedom… oh yes, this was just as fun as dancing with her; the way she moved those hips, those long legs, her pretty little muscular ass with its subtle jiggle, and generous bosom with not-so-subtle jiggle.

“Zevran!” A long time friend and former occasional lover approached him with a warm kiss on the cheek and a wide grin.

“Isabela!” He smiled, returning her kiss and following up with a playful nudge. “Move, you are blocking Zevran’s view.”

She stood next to him, an elbow on his shoulder. “Who have you got your eye on tonight, hmm?” She asked playfully, with a smile.

He pointed with his drink in hand. “There. Dark hair in a braid, black jeans. Nice little ass.”

“Nice curves on that one. Great dancing. Sexy. Playful. You spoken to her yet?”

He chuckled with a wink, “Oh yes. Several times.”

“Oh so, more than talking. Friend with benefits?”

“Hm.” Zevran smiled and nodded. “Permanent friend with benefits.”

“No shit!” Isabela chuckled. “What’s her name? What’s she like?”

“I love her dancing.” Watching her for a few moments, entranced by her sexy, playful dancing, he looked up at Isabela. “Nyla.”

“Hm. Interesting name.”

“She is cool. You would like her very much. I have never known a woman so… shameless.” He melted in imagining her. “Sweet, too. Anders and Leli love her.”

“Ohh! Well, well. You took her home _and_ she passed the roommate test.”

“Yes!” He laughed, “And she is so cocky! Swears she is not small. Just doesn’t see it. It is so funny.”

“She looks about average.” Isabela shrugged.

“Wait until she stands next to you.” He leaned in close to her, “She let me tattoo her, freehand, without seeing a draft.”

Isabela laughed, smiled broadly, leaned in to give him a tight hug. “You sound happy. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you!” He smiled, “You will meet her in a few minutes! You will like her. Everyone does.”

“I never thought you would fall for a woman.” She teased, leaning back with her arms around his neck. “A man, perhaps.”

“I find her to be so… fucking…” he floundered, “Okay, listen. She has these big dark eyes that sparkle, and a long elegant neck. The shoulders! And this hip to waist ratio… Nyla also has this way she listens to people, it is… she is so _human_. The woman shares _everything,_ virtually no internal monologue _…_ it is contagious. And she has style!”

Isabela laughed, patting his cheek, “Yep, you’re a goner.”

He smiled, wiggling his eyebrows, “Also, Nyla is hyper-orgasmic, and the blowjobs are amazing.”

"Now, I do like that in a woman." Isabela toyed idly with his hair, “Aren’t you a _lucky_ man! If you could see your own face right now.”

Nyla spun around, showing off for her boyfriend from her place on the dance floor; the perfect spot where she had freedom to move and had a good view of his steamy gaze whenever she wanted. Looking up to flirt and indulge in his steamy gaze, she froze… _he’s not even watching… who the fuck is that…_ humiliation sunk into the pit of her stomach… _I’m so stupid… the way he’s looking at her..._ this new woman’s arms draped over his shoulders, Zevran’s hands rested on her hips.

Nyla stood stock still, watching his smile, his gaze on the beautiful, scantily clad woman in thigh high boots with dark hair and skin, curves in all the right places. _Oh my god she’s gorgeous. I knew it. I’m competing with the world._ Tears welled in her eyes, and she stood tall despite the insurmountable weight that had suddenly landed on her shoulders; Nyla strode toward him teeming with shame and anger, fierce jealousy humming through her.

A special gift from the universe was then bestowed upon Nyla as she happened to glance to her left. Ashley stared at Nyla with a smug smile on her face and another wave of humiliation hit her; the bitch had been right, and she had also the pleasure of knowing it. _Fuck her. Fuck this._

Nyla grabbed her jacket from the table.

“Nyla!” Lost in getting a chance to tell someone how amazing his girlfriend was, he forgot to watch her, and he backed away from Isabela in a wash of guilt. He tilted his head at his hurting girlfriend, imagining what she had seen, and from the pain in her stare, he knew he had fucked up royally. “Amor, this is-”

“I don’t need to know. It’s not my business.” Pulling on her jacket she picked up her drink and considered, for only a brief moment, throwing it in his face. Instead, she gulped it down. “I have to go.”

“Now kitten-” Isabela spoke softly.

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ ‘now kitten’ me. I don’t share.” Nyla glowered, her eyes glassy. “You can have him.” She couldn’t even look at him as she walked toward the door.

“Amor!” Zevran followed her, an apologetic nod directed at Isabela, who looked as distraught as he felt.  

“Don’t you ‘amor’ me!” Nyla growled, pushing the door open.

Zevran felt as though he had been slapped hard across the face; Nyla had never spoken this way to him. “Nyla, talk to me.”

“So you can tell me a tale about how it’s not what it looks like?” She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and turned to face him. “Did you fuck her too?”

“Yes but-”

_“Fuck!”_

“Not _just_ _now!_ Jesus Christ, Nyla!”  

“You clearly wanted to.” She spat, looking at the street for an available taxi. “Couldn’t even wait until I was gone. Any other surprises for me? Would it be easier to point out who you haven’t had sex with in this building?”

“What the fuck?” He stared at her with wide eyes, “Nyla, you defended me, but at the first sign of another woman touching me you believe these things about me?”

“That other one wasn’t swinging on you like a fucking jungle gym while I was shaking my ass for you!”

“It is _just_ Isabela! She is… _handsy!”_

 _“She_ is handsy?” Nyla’s tearful eyes went wide. “Don’t you have boundaries? Were you at least vaguely aware of _my_ boundaries? Do you have any idea what that was like for me? Dancing and showing off for you, just to catch you fawning over some other woman?”

“Amor- Nyla, you don’t know what happened.” He reached for her and thought better of it, pulling his hand away, not wanting to scare her into thinking he would ever harm her in his anger. “You know me better than this.”

“I thought I did.” The more Zevran displayed his care, the more confusing things became for Nyla. “I told you what I was available for from the beginning.” She wiped beneath her eyes with her fingertips in an attempt to avoid eyeliner mishaps. “Is it so bad for me to want a man who only has eyes for me?” With a shaky sigh laced with tears she continued, “That’s what I fucking want, Zevran, and apparently you can’t offer it to me with any real conviction.”

“And all I want is to be fucking _trusted.”_ He pursed his lips, afraid he would cry with her. “I am not getting it from you, and you do not see me insisting we end our relationship.”

Maybe it was the abject pain in his stare, the tears that he blinked back, or the hard reminder of the essence of who he was, _‘I happen to be a very loyal person!’_ Nyla’s anger softened; this was about trust, and she was being crazy.

“Nyla, after all we shared, been through together, I cannot believe this misunderstanding has you speaking as if we are through.” He slowed down and sighed. “It doesn’t have to be over. We can work through whatever the fuck this is. At _least_ trust me on that,” he strained to be gentle, trying not to fight her although he was angry. “Please.”

Staring, taking in how beautiful he looked, wisps of yellow hair stirring in the cool breeze, caressing his cheeks. How sweet, golden-brown eyes soft and familiar; _unsafe._ “I need time.”

 

*******

 

_Two. Fucking. Hours._

Two hours ago his girlfriend walked away from him, and all he could do is sit on his bed in his pajamas, listen to sad songs and miss her. The thoughts looped over and over, _I made a mistake, and now she doesn’t trust me._ Other painful thoughts intermittently chirped in. _She is being fucking crazy!_ And his loudest experience was that he didn’t care how, he just wanted her back. _That is crazy, Zevran. You are being crazy._ But she said she needed time, she didn’t say how much and the mystery of it ached.

He had a sense of waiting for her, considered painting, drawing, anything to pass the time, but his last memory of her was a tearful and pained, accusatory stare that only brought him shame; a picture he didn’t want in his mind, and didn’t have the heart to transfer to paper.  _I lost my muse._ It had only been two hours, but it didn’t stop him from feeling as if it was truly the end. _I was not done with you, mi amore. I didn’t ever want to be done with you._

Picking up his phone, he looked in his photo gallery, dominated by her face since three months back. _Has it really only been that long?_ So many pictures and short videos of her, of them together, all of them his favorite. Especially the one where she snuck off with his phone and took topless selfies, smooshing her breasts together with her elbows, a cocky smile on her lips, then a silly face, and one where she had clearly made herself laugh, another where she had lost her grip on the phone and had captured a blur of breasts and startled face as she caught it. Zevran smiled; the bosom was awesome, but that pretty face...

Wondering if he should check if she made it home ok, he thought better of it, not wanting to appear as needy as he felt. After all, he did watch her get in a cab and leave without looking back. Palming his face with a sigh, he continued through his picture gallery, choosing a video at random.

 

_“Amor.” He sat next to her on the bed, journal in her lap, pen in hand, an electronic cigarette between her teeth. “Amor.” Zevran spoke again, “Amor. Amor. Amor.” He poked her arm with a gentle finger. “Amooor.”_

_“Hmm?” Her wide eyes shot toward him, a patient smile on her lips._

_“Hi.”_

 

The sound of her giggling and the brightness of her smile made him ache through the final ten seconds of his video clip; this was his favorite. Watching her lose herself in writing and stare off at nothing was his favorite. The way she could lose herself in her art so completely and turn to him with full, loving attention was his favorite. _And I ruined it._ He rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. _She’s being fucking crazy._ Sighing deeply, he chose another video at random.

 

_"Nyla. Nyla. Nyla.”_

_“Hmmm?”_

_“I am Cat’s favorite.”_

_“It may appear that way, but you’re just his bitch.” Cat meowed, and Nyla stuck her fist out. “Pound it, kitty.”_

_Zevran laughed hard as the cat smacked her fist with a soft ‘PAF!’  
_

 

The video still made him laugh, and it still blew his mind that she taught her cat to fist bump on command. “Fucking Cat,” Zevran whispered with a smile, which faded quickly upon remembering how he ruined everything with a single mistake. _Fuck, she’s being crazy!_

Reaching for his sketchbook, he opened it to his favorite drawing of her and let it lay flat open on his bed. So lovely, their first breakfast together, Nyla's cheeks stuffed with bacon and egg taco behind her closed mouth smile; she looked so very happy. _I would rather have a happy and sexually charged breakfast with you, if you don’t mind._

He jumped up from his bed, needing to move; so many painful words she had thrown at him. Words he would rather have never had said to him, worse that they came from her. _Fuck._ Brooding, he headed downstairs for a snack. Comfort food. Something sweet.

“Hey Zev.” Anders spoke from his seat at the table with a deck of cards. “You alright?”

“No.” He opened the cupboard and brought out a bag of cookies; white chocolate macadamia, a shared favorite of his and his potentially ex-girlfriend. _Fuck!_ He dropped the bag on the table with force and plopped down in a chair. “I fucked up. She is being fucking crazy.”

“Oh boy.” Anders sighed. “That’s pretty harsh. Did you break up or something?”

“I am not sure.” Taking a bite of a cookie, it was sweet and delicious and he nearly wept in recalling all the times he split the last one with his girlfriend, and the many times they had talked each other into being adults and laying off the sweets only to eat them ten minutes later.

“You have been inseparable for like, months now, you were inseparable this morning. I’m sure you still are.” Anders tried to comfort. “She’ll be back.”

“What do you mean, she’ll be back?” Leliana walked in the kitchen and sat at the table. “What happened?”

“Today was three months anniversary, I took her to the place we met, and it was a disaster. Old friend with benefits verbally assaulted us, Isabela was being Isabela. Just… disaster.” Scrubbing his face with his palms, he moved to stand. “Don’t worry about it. I fucked up, she is being crazy. I do not know what is going to happen.”

“No…” Leliana spoke gently. “Sit back down and tell the actual, whole story."

So he did.

“She’s being crazy.” Anders spoke plainly.

“She may have said some really horrible things, there is no excusing that, but she is rightfully upset!” Leliana argued with a pointed finger. “Zevran should have known better than to behave that way, especially knowing that she has jealousy issues. Hell, she speaks openly about her jealousy issues and she works hard to keep them in check. She needs better support than this!”

Anders countered, furrowing his brow at her. “How is Zevran supposed to know every little thing that’s going to set her off? He’s not psychic.”

“Anders, what he did was a rookie mistake. Everyone knows that if you are involved with someone already, you don’t find another beautiful woman and display physical affection towards her. Zevran not only did that in front of Nyla, he did that in front of her _peers._ Now other women know she’s too stupid to choose a man that had actually chosen her.”

“Excuse you, Leli!” Zevran quirked an eyebrow, deeply offended.

“Hold on, I’m making a point, don’t take this personally.” Leliana interrupted him. “I would bet money Nyla feels as if every woman in that club was fucking laughing at her and thinking about how stupid she is for even giving you a chance, given your reputation.”

“Nyla has zero fucks.” Anders spoke seriously. “She wouldn’t give a damn about the others in the club.”

“Bullshit!” Leliana fumed. “Do you not understand her at _all_ yet? She gives so many fucks. She’s in a fuckstorm, and the only thing a person can do when caught up in a fuckstorm is just be accepting of everything before it even happens.” Looking at Zevran she spoke firmly, “She trusted you _so fucking much,_ she had no means of defending against this thing she had never even considered a possibility.”  

“Ah.” Zevran palmed his face; it made perfect sense, and he felt like an asshole. “Shit. Zevran has made a mistake.”

“She should at least hear him out.” Anders huffed. “Zevran has _obviously_ chosen her.”

“And we’re on the outside, Anders. We don’t know if Nyla gets the entire scope of his feelings.” Leliana looked pointedly at Zevran, “Hell, do _you_ even know the entire scope of your feelings?”

Zevran stared at the table and nodded.

“Of course he does, Leli, she’s his sketchbook girl!”

“That means little to nothing to me.” Leliana shrugged.

“Look. Nyla is his fucking _sketchbook girl._ ” Anders sighed, meeting her eyes and leaning closer to her. “That one girl that captivates you and you can’t seem to get away from. You’re always drawn back to her, everyone else loses their appeal because for some reason, she just… she feels like, fucking perfect. She feels like home.”

“You’re making shit up.” Leliana whispered, her cheeks heating.    

“And god forbid you lose your sketchbook girl, or never get to have her.” Anders looked away from Leliana. “Because after knowing her, the bar is set so fucking high, it makes finding someone else damn near impossible.”

Zevran looked at the two of them as they avoided eye contact, wishing Nyla were there to witness it, and he felt the pang of her absence again.

“All I’m saying here,” Anders sighed, running his hand through his hair, “Tell your sketchbook girl you fucking love her. And show her the damn sketches already.”

“You’re putting words in his mouth.” Leliana rolled her eyes at Anders.

“I’m getting really fucking tired of waiting for him to admit it. Or at least show her the sketchbooks.”

“Look! There is no purpose to showing her the sketches!” Zevran snapped at them, feeling the ache of losing her on top of facing everything he did wrong and all the things he should have said. “I can draw her all fucking day, and it won’t make her fucking love me back.”

“You do love her!” Leliana smiled broadly, pointing at him. “Oh my god, Zevran, tell her.”

Anders slammed his fist on the table. “Tell her!”

“Tell her!” Leliana whined.

“No, if I tell her now she will believe I am trying to win her back with bullshit.” Zevran sighed.

“Then show her the sketches.” Anders added excitedly.

“Still no.” Zevran sighed. “She’ll think I am a creeper.”

“Come on!” Anders insisted playfully, “We don’t want to lose our friend and you know she won’t come back if her ex is here.”

“Not fucking funny, Anders. You can mourn the loss of your friend if you wish, but you are not losing what I have lost,” he spoke angrily, refusing to cry. “She is in every fucking aspect of my life. My art, what I eat and drink, my fucking tattoo chair, my _work!_ My fucking _livelihood_.” Standing he headed for his room. “You are losing simply a playmate.”

“A really fucking good one!” Leliana rebutted. “And you feel like you’re losing your life, Zevran, I get it. I really do get it. You have to tell her.” Leliana stood and stepped toward him. “She loves you too.”   

“Shut up, Leli!” Zevran stormed toward his room, angry she would taunt him with what he desired most in the world. _“God damn!”_  

A knock on the front door caught their attention.

“It’s Nyla.” Anders spoke. “That’s totally Nyla.”

“Of course it is.” Leliana went for the door, glancing at Zevran who decided to creep back toward the bottom of the stairs. Swinging open the door, she spoke, “Come in. We’ve been filled in.”

Nyla stood on his doorstep, her eyes red from crying, face clean of makeup, she was in her yoga pants and big sweatshirt. He wanted to run to her, squeeze her, that was, until she turned around and dragged a suitcase in the door.

Zevran’s heart crumbled as he recognized the suitcase as his own, full of clothes he left at her place.

“Leliana and I are going out for icecream.” Anders spoke softly. “We were just headed out.”

Nyla couldn’t look at them as they left, her eyes pointed at the floor; she felt the familiar caress of Anders’ large hand on her shoulder, followed by a gentle squeeze. The silence of the room rung in her ears after the door closed behind them.

“I brought your things for you, so I could have an excuse to see you.” Nyla spoke tearfully, her heart sore.

Standing in the doorway with Zevran’s suitcase at her feet, she watched him apprehensively as she couldn’t tell in the slightest what he was thinking. He simply stared at her, after all, she had said the last thing he had expected to hear; she had wanted to see him.

“Zev?” She bit her lip, unsure of what to say, where to begin. “I can go now, if you prefer-”

“No.” He spoke automatically, shaking his head.

“You didn’t answer my texts, so I figured…” She shrugged, her lip becoming sore from nervous nibbling. Her heart pounded. "When I said I needed time I just meant like a couple hours to cool off before I said more terrible things to you."

“Ah.” Zevran’s heart fluttered, and he offered a weak smile. “I left my phone in my room. I came down for a snack and got caught up in speaking with Lelianders.” The closer she stepped toward him, the lighter he felt, the more he just wanted to hold her. “They offered insight into what a thoughtless asshole I had been.”

“I’m the one that went crazy.” Nyla spoke softly, standing a mere two feet from the man she had been so sure would never speak to her again. “I shouldn’t have said those things, I didn’t even mean most of it. I…” she bit her quivering lip. “I do have a history of... verbally abusing the men closest to me when things go south.” Wiping a tear from her cheek she sniffled, “It’s not okay for me to do that.”

“I agree.” Zevran whispered, his heart hurting in remembrance of the insults she slung at him. “Will you come upstairs? Sit and talk?”

Nodding, she followed him up the staircase she thought she would never be welcome to climb again, nearly crying again at memories of him chasing her to the top, pinching her ass and making her squeal.

 

_“Don’t do it, Zevran! I said don’t! Stop!”_

_“Don’t stop, amor said!”_

_“Punctuation! Oh my god! Punctuation!”_

 

She sat on his drawing chair as she ached in the wake of her beautiful memory. He sat on his bed across from her, eyes soft and expectant.

“I’ll start.” Nyla spoke gently, pausing for thought. “Why were you being… physical... with that woman while I was dancing?”

“Isabela and I used to hook up, on occasion.” He spoke frankly, noticing her subtle cringe as he said it. “She is no threat to our partnership. That being said, I admit, I should have been more conscientious. I was so engrossed in conversation, I was standing close to her as I used to before I had a girlfriend to think about. My physical contact with her is… habitual, as she is very handsy. This does not make it okay, I just want to help you understand.”

“I see.” Nyla sighed. “You were so engrossed in conversation, you forgot… that you… had a girlfriend?”

“No!” Zevran chuckled with a sigh. “No. I was… you twisted my words in such a way I do not know how to untwist them.” Pausing for thought, he furrowed his brow. “So, Isabela came to me, she is a cheek kisser so we kissed cheeks. Then Zevran told her to move so he could see Nyla’s dancing. She asked about you, I became overzealous in my explaining-”

“You were talking about me?” Nyla tilted her head at him. “The entire time?”

“Yes, and I was not paying attention to where whose hands were where, I forgot to watch your dancing…”

“I think I get it.”

“I had not seen her in so long, so excited to tell her about my girlfriend, and that I even had one.”

“The way you were looking at her...” Nyla let out a shuddering breath, relief washing over her heart, the soreness of betrayal replaced by remorse; her trembling fingers rested on her lips. “Oh my god.”

“I was inconsiderate, and I did not mean to be.” He added after a pregnant pause, “It is not okay for me to do that.”

“I said so many rotten things to you.” She wept a little, seeing him nod, his gaze downcast. “I’m sorry I stopped trusting you.” Wiping her nose with her sleeve she spoke softly, “I lost my fucking mind, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do... how to fix this.”

“Can you handle the fact that I have been sexually involved with an undetermined number of people?”

“Most of the time.” Nyla’s face felt hot as she answered his very poignant question.

“Perhaps with time, when you see me not standing inappropriately close to women.” He smiled with a shrug.

“That’s a thought.” She chuckled, taking a tissue from his outstretched arm and blowing her nose. “Does this mean you still want to be my partner?”

“Yes.” He sighed, taking this to mean that they were still in their partnership together. “Of course, amor.”

Meeting his eyes, she melted, smiled, and got up, moving toward him for the hug she had been desperate for all night. Zevran met her halfway, and when she was in his arms again, his world clicked back into place; so much relief.

“Amor,” he crooned, “preciosa.”  

“I missed you.” Nyla chuckled happily, “For that… entire four hour separation.”

He laughed, squeezed her tighter, picked her up around her waist, and flopped them on the bed. “Yes. Cuddling.” They curled up together, tangled limbs and warmth, the comforting and familiar scent of each other.

“Is that me?” Nyla spoke softly.

“Hmm?” He looked at her, looked behind himself, following where her eyes lay, and he felt utterly stunned; there was no backpedaling from this. “Yes.”

“May I look at it closer?” She sat up, so much curiosity, finally getting a glimpse of one of his many sketchbooks. “I know how hard it is to share-”

“Here.” Zevran reached behind himself, and handed it to her; she had given him an easy out, and he didn’t want it. He needed to witness her trust in him, to trust that he wasn’t a creeper. Sitting up, he sat next to her so he could look with her.

“Is this how you see me?” She smiled, caressing the page with her fingertips.

“This is what you look like!” Zevran chuckled. “Silly.”

“I look so… happy.” She sighed heavily, having forgotten to breathe for several seconds. “I guess you drew this from memory?”

“Mmm hmm.” His heart beat hard in his chest, and the wind knocked from him; he sighed deeply and swallowed nervously.

“How…” She looked up at him, questioning, curious. “When is this from? What moment is this?”

“Our first breakfast. One of my favorite drawings.” _Well… here we go,_ he sighed again to catch his breath. “One of my favorite drawings of you.” He reached over and flipped the sketchbook to page one.

* * *

Selfie by [@earthprincewu](http://earthprincewu.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	16. Chapter 16

“You seem nervous.” Nyla looked up at him as his hand moved to his sketchbook and he flipped it to the beginning. She nudged closer to him, getting more cozy on his bed. “Are you sure you want to show me?”

He nodded, just wishing she would _look at the page!_

“I’d love to see this, but not if it hurts.” She reached up and laid a hand on the back of his neck; a touch she knew he found to be soothing.

Zevran sighed deeply, falling into her soft stare. More sure than ever about his decision to show her, he nodded at the page and smiled. “Look.”

“No one has ever drawn me before, and you drew me twice.” Nyla smiled at a full body drawing of herself, mid stride with her head held high, bedroom eyes, lips in a cocky smirk. “Holy shit, Zevran. I’m hot.”

“Si!” Zevran laughed; _Drew her twice!_ “That is you looking at Zevran for the first time.”

“Really?” She melted, nobody had ever done something so sweet, and she felt the urge to cry. “I look as confident and cocky as you do.”

“Si.” He nodded, smiling.

“You have the moment we met locked in your brain?”

“Si.”

“And then you drew it?”

“Yes, amor.” He reached over and turned the page.

“Oh.” She held up the book in excitement; a detailed closeup of her face, a cigarette between her lips. “Oh, I love this,” she whispered.

“Outside of the club. The moment we shook hands.”

“Oh my god. Your memory is…” her voice trailed off and she turned the page. Several small sketches on the same page, all of them in various poses of her dancing. Beckoning with her arms, looking over her shoulder at him with a mischievous smile… she had been bold, and looked _hot;_ she knew she was hot, but _damn!_ “You drew me dancing?”

“Mmm hmm.” He smirked, watching her closely, her tearful eyes wide with awe wandered the page.

“You are so skilled.” She whispered, her heart overflowing. Nyla had no idea what to do with this new data, this secret within their relationship that he had protected.

“I can do a lot when I am inspired.” He waited patiently for her to finish staring at the page.

“I inspired you?” She looked up at him, remembering words pouring from her; prose and poems about him, herself, their relationship, other aspects of her life that had seemed to shift in the wake of simply having him close to her.

“You did inspire me.” He turned the page for her.

“There’s more?” Nyla looked down to see a picture of herself looking distraught, perhaps confused about something; head tilted to the side, glaring, mouth in a crooked frown, skin between her eyebrows wrinkled. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “What is this?”

“The moment you met Zevran’s best friend Leli,” he whispered, a shock of embarrassment running through him. “You were… very cute with your troubled stare.”

“Hmm.” Nyla could feel the lie in his explaining, but she had no idea how to point at it.

“Actually,” Zevran sighed. _She is doing that thing with her face again_. It often seemed she could see right through him; picking up on every feeling, every mood, and even when he withheld things from her. “It told me you had interest in me, and I felt the urge to be closer to you even stronger.”

“That is possibly the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” She smiled, turned the page, and saw herself naked. “Oh.”

“I was guessing,” he chuckled, face feeling hot, pursing his lips. “I had no reference.”

“Wildly accurate.” She brought the book closer to her face and giggled. “Zev, this is _wildly accurate!_ How did you guess I had a squishy belly?”

“I don’t know, I was using my imagination. You are a _woman.”_ He spoke reverently, “Feminine, graceful, soft. Soft woman.” He smiled and closed his eyes. “Zevran likes soft women. Even the words ‘soft woman’ make me feel things.”

“I am loving every minute of this.” She stared at him. Opening his eyes to meet hers, he smiled. “I’m learning more about you, Zevran.”

“Look more.” He relaxed, loving every moment of this, he had no idea showing her would be so fun, so light and easy; his nervousness waned. She flipped the page.

“I knew you weren’t there for the bottomless coffee.” Nyla smiled at herself in her work uniform. A tray of drinks in both hands, plated food lining her arms. “Those stunts are my favorite part of the job. It’s so cool that you chose to draw me in my element.”

“Oh? That is pretty cool!” He couldn’t stop smiling. She found out he spied on her at work, and she hadn’t even flinched. _Is this trust?_

She sighed, turning the page, another sketch, leaning over the counter and pouring his coffee. “Judging by your drawings, everything I do is sexy and elegant. Even pouring coffee.” The next drawing, leaning over the table, cleavage showing, sultry stare, her hair falling from her braid in gentle wisps  rested along her cheeks. “Even being a mess is elegant. Damn. God.”

“Mmm,” he smirked at his own work, feeling aroused just looking at her and remembering that moment of tension when she spoke breathlessly, _‘I’ll be back with more coffee.’_

“Oh my god.” She laughed hard, at the next drawing; eyes wide with surprise, a knuckle between her bared teeth in a wide smile. “I remember this moment. It’s when you said what you wanted wasn’t on the menu. Oh my god. I was fucking _slain.”_

“Priceless.” Resting his chin on her shoulder, she turned her head subtly so she could see him.

“Waaait.” Grinning, she bit her lip and looked at the black cover of the sketchbook. “Every time you close your book when I come near you… I thought you were dropping what you were doing to offer me your full attention.”  

“That is definitely true.”

“But you were hiding this. At the restaurant. You were actually drawing me right then?”

“Yes! You _inspired_ me. I just...” he sighed deeply to calm his nerves, “I needed to see you.”

“Zev.” She flipped the pages faster, taking a moment to examine several more drawings of herself at work. “Is this book all me? What’s this?” She asked, a picture of herself in a plain black skirt and white tank top, her purse hanging on her shoulder, clinging to her journal. Must have been a dress down day, with her hair out of its typical french braid in waves resting on her shoulders, a lock of hair obscuring her right eye. Head tilted, a warm smile, eyes that spoke of longing and tenderness; when did she ever look like that? In her awe, she asked absently, “What the hell is this?”

“When you walked in my tattoo parlor.”

“You always draw me so pretty,” she whispered, swallowing so not to cry. “It says, ‘One could dream.’ What’s it mean?”

“One could dream their feelings are reciprocated,” he spoke softly, feeling shy.

“That’s beautiful.” Overwhelmed, Nyla moved forward, turning the page to see a picture of herself leaning back in his tattoo chair with downcast eyes and a shy smile, his gloved hand resting on her scarred thigh. “What’s this mean?” She couldn’t hold back tears, and she wasn’t sure why.

“Hmm.” Reflecting on the emotions, startled fear, remorse, concern, tenderness… she had been grievously injured. What if she had died? What if they had never met? He would never have had the chance to love her; the realization had hit him hard and felt more true than ever. _Fuck, I love her so much._ “Zevran was feeling a lot of things.”

“Now I’m feeling things.” She turned the page and chuckled at a very detailed drawing of her startled face with her hand on her cheek; comical, sweet, and as always, so elegant. “What’s this?”

“It was such a good kiss.” He pointed at the lightly scrawled words at the top of the page. “Your face after you kissed me.”

“You mean, when we kissed each other.” She chuckled, sniffled and looked up at him.

“Nyla started it,” he spoke with a confident nod. “You kissed me.”  
  
“You reciprocated,” giggling, she added, “very enthusiastically.”

“You still started it.”

“And you drew it.” She flipped the page and startled, her fingers raised to rest on her parted lips. “You drew me sleeping?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “The morning after your first tattoo session.”

She flipped the page. “You drew me twice while I slept?”

“You moved,” Zevran shrugged, face feeling hot. “It was cute.”

“You watched me sleep?”

The tension was killing him, and he had to ask. “This bothers you?” _Am I creepy?_

“No!” Burying her face in her hands for a moment, she wept, taking a few deep breaths to calm the unbearable sweetness she felt. “No! Oh my god... I can’t think of anything more romantic.” Looking at him with wide, tearful eyes she asked incredulously, “This book is all me, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Zevran whispered, withholding tears; she was seeing it all, understanding him. He wasn’t a creeper; the relief was stark.

“Us at breakfast,” she spoke, having already seen it. She flipped the page, eager to see more. “What’s this?”

“Our first dance.” He pursed his lips, excitement building; he loved her so much and she was getting it, he was watching her get it. _Fuck!_ He bit his lip, as she was coming upon _that_ drawing… words he could not unwrite or erase because he would have been lying. Waiting for her to turn the page was torture.

“What’s this?” Eyes flicked over the page in startled amazement. She was lying on her back, arms outstretched as if reaching out, a warm smile, cheeks flushed. She shook her head when she saw the words written large and prominent on the page, _‘mi amor.’_ “What’s it mean?”

“It means I wish you knew more Español,” Zevran chuckled hiding behind his hands. _As if showing her wasn’t fucking hard enough…_

“I know what it means.” She brushed his hands with hers and he lowered his arms with gentle encouragement. Meeting his eyes, she spoke softly, “Zevran, I want you to say it.”

Tilting his head at her, his lips parted, and words simply wouldn’t happen. It shone in his eyes, spoke through a caress of her cheek, he wanted to kiss her so badly. _Mi amore…_ With a slow gesture, one finger in the air, he nodded. Crawling across the bed to his bedside table he picked up his stack of sketchbooks.

Too much for Nyla as she melted completely, responding to his tender and shy gaze with a smile. Kneeling in front of her, he fanned them out; books labeled two through seven.

“Book seven is only half full, mi amor.”

“Let me get this straight.” Sitting up on her knees, her gaze jumped back and forth from Zevran to the sketchbooks; her heart could explode. “Have you been illustrating our relationship since the day we met?”

“Si, mi amor,” he purred, smiling with a patient nod.

Blinking to clear tears in her eyes, she sniffled. “That’s actually the most beautiful thing I have heard in my entire life.”

Zevran smiled and jumped up from his bed, reaching for her hand. He had been afraid to share, and _now_ he felt safe. _Now_ he was ready, and excitement replaced trepidation.

“Oh lord, what now?” Nyla chuckled, following his lead. He guided her to stand in front of a covered canvas settled on an easel. “Oh no.” She sighed, already on the brink of tears; he unveiled his art with a gentle pull on the corner of a silk sheet; Nyla gasped. “This is the one you just finished? Had to start over?”

“The first version, it came out wrong. Sometimes the art does what it wants, and Zevran does not agree, so I painted over it with two coats of white. The painting needed...” his voice trailed off and he paused to take a deep breath; it was harder to say than he had imagined. “Something.” _I should have said the other thing,_ he cringed and bit his lip.

“It’s so beautiful.” She stared in awe at their nude forms; so vulnerable, Zevran sitting behind her, his arms around her covered all but her cleavage, their arms entwined, hands clasped together, his chin resting on her shoulder, her head tilted, to rest against his. “It’s so perfect.” Nyla stepped closer, hugging herself, lower lip quivering, staring at the way his legs entwined with hers in the painting, peace and softness in their eyes. “The way you capture emotion-” She began, interrupted by his touch.   

Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his chin on her shoulder and her head tilted to rest against his; he decided to say the other thing. “The painting felt incomplete. The painting did not feel right until Nyla had her Zevran. Now the painting is right. Perfect.” Holding her tighter as she wept, he continued, “So many things I wished I had said, when I thought I lost you. Say everything just in case, no?” He paused, smiling when she nodded. “I choose you. I will always choose you. I love you.”    

Turning her head to meet his eyes, their lips a breath apart, Nyla whispered, “Te amo, brave Zevran.” _I love you._ “I have wanted to say that for so long.”

Tender gazes locked, Zevran rested a palm on her cheek with a gentle kiss accompanied by a mutual, satisfied sigh. Nyla turned toward him, wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and melted into the golden-brown eyes of the man she loved. Smirking at him, Nyla bit her lip and cocked her head.

Zevran grinned, so sexy and warm. _I am going to fuck this woman to death_ , he thought as they leaped at each other. Kissing feverishly, hands wandered with unbridled enthusiasm, pulling at each others clothing.

Zevran had this planned for _months:_ First, he would get her naked, romantic and slow, caressing and kissing… maybe take his shirt off to feel her bare calves on his back while he used his mouth on her, to get her warmed up, nice and wet for him; perhaps even getting her off if it seemed appropriate. Then he would _make love_ to her; giving and taking pleasure at their leisure. Then, after a bit of rest, cuddling, perhaps a short nap, he would plough her in several different positions until she screamed and her legs were rendered temporarily useless.

Zevran wondered why he bothered planning anything with her as she pulled his shirt over his head; within a minute Nyla had him naked with his pants around his ankles, and already had her own shirt off. Chuckling and groaning against her mouth, Zevran unclasped her bra with a quick snap of his fingers. Moving his hands down her bare back to push down her pants, they were already gone, so he grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled her tight against him.  

It had been over two years since Nyla had last gotten laid, and she was not inclined to waste a moment in making it happen. She kissed him ravenously, his hands squeezing her ass, his cock pressed against her abdomen and her hands wandered Zevran’s back pulling him tight against herself.

Breaking their kiss, Zevran lifted her, and long legs wrapped eagerly around his waist. Immediately her mouth was on his neck, lavishing him with wet, eager kisses, working her way up to his jaw as he made his way to the bed. With his girlfriend clinging tightly to him, he climbed onto the bed to lay her down gently, settling between her legs, hovering above her. Their hands wandered, indulgent kisses and needy moans. Zevran pulled away breathlessly to look into her dark eyes.

Loving stares and smiles, breathless giggles; Nyla wiggled her hips beneath him, a hard cock teased, gliding along her pink.

“Mmm.” Zevran grumbled with a lopsided smile. “Needy Nyla.”

“You’re teasing me.” She chuckled breathlessly, her insides quivering in anticipation. “I love you,” she whispered, “I love it when you tease me.”    

“Te amo, Nyla,” he whispered, kissing her, pausing to whisper again, “Te amo.”

Her hand lowered between them to stroke him with a tight fist. Zevran groaned against her mouth as she rubbed the head of his cock along her slick folds; Nyla aligned him with her entrance, moving her hips in needy anticipation. Following her lead with a desire to give her exactly what she wanted, he pressed into her.  

“Oh fuck.” Nyla pulled from the kiss to gasp, the gentle intrusion making her skin tingle all over; slow movement, filling her inch by inch, she clung to his biceps and moaned, “Oh my fucking god. _Right there. Oh fuck!”_

Zevran bit his lip, slick heat enveloped him, eliciting pleasured gasps and a desire to move. She trembled with eyes half closed, fingers clinging hard to his biceps. He had known all along she was going to be fun to fuck, already getting off the moment he penetrated her. “Mmm… right where, amor?”

“Right there,” she gasped, rolling her hips, the slightest friction setting her off. “I’m-” she panted, her head tossed back, and the first wave rolled through her; thighs squeezing around his waist, legs shaking uncontrollably, she moaned so loud for him.

“Right everywhere, amor?” He crooned with a smile, resting his forehead against hers. Shifting onto his forearms to rest his weight on her, he rolled his hips and she came again, gasping and clinging to him desperately; Zevran loved his loud girlfriend more than he had words to express. Kissing her pretty face, her jaw and neck, he wondered what to do with someone so orgasmic. His girlfriend required no effort, no special tricks or positions… what was he supposed to do? Simply enjoy himself?

 

 

“You’re perfect.” Nyla whispered against his lips. Running hands along his back, undulating her hips, using her legs to leverage herself for more movement; his weight pinned her down, holding her still. “Making me squirm? Trying to make me beg for it? Because I will.”

Moving his hips with a breathy moan, he grabbed her arms and pinned them on either side of her head, drawing his hands along them to clasp hers. Rough, hurried movements expressed passion, so intimate, holding hands and fucking at the same time; so perfect, so _them._ He groaned against her mouth as she came again with a squeal, her hips rolling to meet his, Nyla’s long legs wrapped firm around his waist.

Moaning, burying his face in her neck, Nyla tilted her head with a whimper, encouraging kisses and nibbles. His body heavy on her and hips writhing, commingled sweat and breathy moans; every inch, every part of him felt better than any dream or fantasy. A mirror caught her eye giving an immaculate side-view of them, Zevran’s muscular arms and back flexing and relaxing with exertion. Such an erotic view, her belly fluttered and back arched, _“Fucking… fuck! Yes! Right there!”_

Feeling her pussy so tight around him, Zevran gasped and cursed, letting go of delicate hands to hold himself up so he could look down at her, the gentle slap of skin against skin reverberating around them. So lovely and sweet, the way she panted and writhed; the blush of her cheeks, chest and shoulders, her sweat dampened skin, kiss-swollen lips parted with gasping breath, eyes on his. Nyla caressed his arms, back, and chest, cupping his cheek and drawing her thumb along his lower lip. “Te amo, Zevran,” she crooned, “I love the way you fuck me.”

“Too good, Nyla,” he whispered, her sweet voice saying naughty things a hot button for him, and he slowed to prolong their love-making. _“Shit,”_ he hissed, baring his teeth and shaking his hair from his eyes.

“Going to come for me, my love?” She purred, biting her lip. “You always clench your jaw when you’re close,” Nyla caressed his face gently, “And your nose scrunches just like that.”

 _“Fuck.”_ He shuddered, indulging in slow strokes and the soft sound of their bodies meeting. “I will if you keep talking to me like that,” he whispered with a breathy chuckle, tucking his knees beneath her thighs.

“Come on, Zevran.” She purred with a sultry smile, grabbing his ass and writhing her hips, encouraging him to move. "Fuck me, Zev. Hard. Fucking pound me."

 _Wow! Fuck!_ Throwing her legs over his shoulders, he leaned over, resting his palms flat on the bed; the faces Nyla made as he gave her the pounding she asked for thrilled him.

“Oh god!” Nyla wailed, her hands looking for something to hold onto; she grabbed his thighs and held on tight. “Oh my fucking god yes! _Yes! Right there!”_

 _“Nyla!”_ Zevran growled resting his full weight on her, the impulse to bite so strong as he felt contracting muscles in his gut. Grabbing the skin of her shoulder between his teeth, he groaned, pressing into her. Rolling his hips as she squeezed tight around him again, drawing his orgasm from him, making him moan and bite and hips stutter until he was spent.

  
*

“Did you just hear Zevran yell?” Anders asked Leliana as he closed the front door behind them.

“I didn’t hear anything.” Leliana frowned, glaring at the stairs to his room. “He better not yell at her.”

“He doesn’t occur to me as the type to go off like that, but you never know.” Anders shrugged. “At least they’re talking. Trying to work shit out.”

“They will.” She sat at the table and picked up a deck of cards. “And now that we have no interruptions.” Smirking, she held it up between two fingers and wiggled her eyebrows. “You ready?”

Anders returned her smirk and went to the kitchen drawer, pulling out a second deck of cards. Holding it up he purred, “Are _you_ ready?”

“Yes.” She rubbed her hands together in greedy anticipation, warming them. Reaching into the box, she pulled out the cards. Holding two cards up and steady on the table, Anders picked picked up a third, placing it flat on top of the two vertically-standing cards. “Perfect,” Leliana whispered as she loosened her hold on the cards and they stood perfectly still. “Perfect. So satisfying.”

  
*

“You know,” Nyla spoke, her head resting on his chest as he twirled her hair around his fingers and smiled. “I really do love you. I wasn’t just trying to get in your pants.”

“Bullshit,” Zevran whispered, smiled shyly, chuckling at her tilted head and raised eyebrows. With kiss swollen lips, her cheeks still flushed, that amazing sex-hair; Zevran needed to draw her, and he didn’t have to resist the impulse anymore. Looking around at scattered sketchbooks on the bed, he saw what he was looking for. “Reach there, amor, and hand me book seven. Right there beneath your right leg. Yes. Thank you.” Reaching over to the bedside table, he picked up a pencil.

“Are you about to draw me again?” Nyla smiled placing gentle kisses on his solar plexus.

“Mmm hmm,” he smirked, finding the first clean page. So sweetly satisfying, drawing her with her sitting right there, watching him draw, knowing what he was drawing. “Te amo,” he whispered as his pencil scratched across the page.   

“What moment are you drawing?” Nyla peppered his skin with kisses, and he glanced up at her with a smile.

“The moment you spoke ‘I really do love you.’”

“Why?” She asked with a gentle nibble on his belly.

“Hmm.” Loving her attention, her curiosity, the way she generously kissed him and draped over him, he could feel how their love-making had relaxed something between them. “Your face as you said it. Gentle, and… what word? Bright? Light? Like a sunrise and a warm breeze. It stuck in my memory, and I want to see it on this paper.”

“Is that why you draw them? To relive a memory over and over?”

“Yes!” He grinned, pausing his sketching to meet her curious gaze. “Yes, exactly! Pictures with my phone changes things. I take a picture of you but it sometimes doesn’t look like what I see. When I draw, it comes out exactly as I see… you going to cry, amor?”

“I might.” She blinked away tears, smiled and sighed, loving the sound of his pencil on paper. His eyes flicked up at her briefly as she sat up, and distinct hunger shone in his eyes, the way his tongue flicked against his lips. Taking a moment to clean up scattered sketchbooks, she crawled away from him and off the bed. Nyla went to his computer, making a show of bending over to wake it up with a click of the mouse.

Watching her from the corner of his eye, he picked up the pace with his sketching. She turned on some music with an appreciative sigh. Playing a song he recognized, ‘Cigarettes and Red Wine’ by Ella Fence, his girlfriend started dancing slowly, gracefully. Naked. In his room. Her breasts wavered. So appealing, her hips moving side to side; he would have to draw her again later.

How it pained him to leave a drawing unfinished, but _damn..._ naked, dancing girlfriend tested his resolve. His eyes lifted from the paper to watch her dance. As if he wasn’t right there. As if she wasn’t naked. He loved his shameless, cocky, sexy girlfriend with long legs and big, round breasts and that soft little belly. Biting his lip, he remembered with excitement; they can bang now. No more holding back, no more saying no, no more reining in passion or withholding love.

His heated stare piqued her attention and she flirted with her eyes, held his gaze and started a slow crawl across the bed; Zevran didn’t know if he wanted to leap on her or wait to see what she would do. _Holy shit!_ He was drowning in her, in love and desire, and did she have _any_ idea what she was doing to him? He closed the sketchbook, and put it aside.

“I hope you don’t have plans to use those long legs for anymore dancing tonight.” His eyes flicked over wavering bosom and hips moving side to side as she proceeded toward him.  

“Oh? Are you going to wear me out?” she purred, swinging one leg over his waist, straddling him. “Are you flirting with me, or is that really a thing?”

“Mmm.” Running hands all over her, she moved her hips, so wet, folds sliding over his dick in the most thrilling way. “Let’s find out.”

“I like the sound of that.” Her palms glided over his chest and arms, teasing them both with writhing hips. Leaning down for indulgent kisses, her breasts pressed against his chest. Zevran grabbed her ass with both hands, thrilling her with the strength of his arms, eager movement, his appreciative groans. Moving _just_ right, he slid inside her, and she pulled from their kiss to let out a lusty moan. “Oh… fucking, damn… you feel so good,” she spoke breathlessly as he held onto her ass, guiding her.

 _“Yes…”_ he hissed, teasing them both with slow strokes. She kissed him with a greedy mouth, her hands caressing his arms, his face; her touch, kisses felt perfect, her body fit against his as if she belonged there, her long legs tense along his body, and breasts rubbed against his chest.

Sitting up with her ass still held firm in his palms, he moved her more vigorously, with gentle moans against her mouth.

 

*

 

Anders tilted his head in befuddlement. “Do you hear-”

“Yes.” Leliana spoke quickly with a giggle. “How could I not?”

The rhythmic sound of two bodies on a soft mattress carried downstairs. _“Oh god… oh fuck me! Fuck! Zevran! Yes!”_

“So... they’ve made up.” Anders placed a card carefully upon the two Leliana held in place.

“They seem to have made a significant development in their relationship.” She surveyed their house of cards, “Right there,” she pointed, and then reached for two cards.

Thumping sounds intensified. _“Right there! Oh! Oh! Oh!”_

“Are you sure?” Anders furrowed his brow in concentration and bit his lip as he laid another card atop of the cards Leliana held.

“Lovely.” She reached for two more cards.

 

*

 

Sitting up on his knees, they held tight to each other, his hands still squeezing her glorious ass, moving his arms and hips, pounding into her, making her come over and over, so tight around him; _fuck_ she was fun to fuck and he loved her so much.

“Zev!” Fingers pressed into his back, toes curled and her belly fluttered, he filled her so perfectly. Wanting to move with him, she couldn’t, as she had no leverage, and muscular arms controlled every movement. “Oh god… yes… like that! Holy _fuck!_ ” She hit another peak, her head tossed back and he pushed hard into her, intensifying it and making her moan so loud for him. _“Ohhhhh god!”_

“Te amo, Nyla.” He smiled for her with a breathy chuckle as her head rose and their eyes locked.

“Holy shit, Zevran. I fucking love you,” Nyla panted, her mouth on his again as he lowered her onto her back.  

Sitting up, Zevran lifted her bottom, resting her on his thighs. So reactive and vocal, he couldn’t wait to hear what would come out of his lovely woman’s mouth next. Closing her legs, he held his cock in his hand, leaning subtly back to watch himself disappear into her with a satisfied moan. So tight, so wet and warm, he groaned with her, bent her legs at the knee and crossed his arms, rested his forearms on the front of her calves.

“Ohhh _shit!”_ Nyla panted, her hands grabbing for his thighs, to touch him anywhere, to have something to hold onto as new sensations and arose and the impending orgasm had her brace herself. He fucked her slowly at first, looking down at her with a smirk as he drove her crazy.

“Feel good, amor?” He spoke softly, biting his lip. She met his eyes with a breathless moan. More pressure from his forearms on her legs, bending her knees more, he pressed more deeply into her. Her eyes and mouth went wide, fingers dug into his thighs. “Right there, amor?”

“You cocky-” she began with a breathless chuckle, and he moved his hips faster, making her forget his satisfied smirk. _“Yes! Right there holy fuck! Oh shit!”_

 

_*_

 

“I’d like a cup of tea.” Leliana spoke as Anders placed another card on the two she held. “You?”

“Mmm hmm.” Anders slowly backed away from the table to survey their work. “It’s getting too high, you think? Maybe we should go wider.”

The distinct-yet-muffled sound of flesh against flesh carried to them, and of course, the desperate wailing of poor Nyla. _“Oh! Oh Zev! I’m coming! Oh god! Oh god! Yes! Oh god! OHHHH!”_

“You think?” Leliana surveyed, walking a circle around the table. “I suppose we could go wider first, then taller.”

Bed thumping, skin against skin, _“Oh fuck! Fuck! Yes! Oh! Oh! Oh my god! Oh my god! Zevran!”_

Leliana spoke a little louder as she picked up the kettle and filled it with water, “Though, if we go much higher, I’ll have to stand on a chair, or you’ll have to solo it.”

Sounds intensified, slapping sounds faster, Zevran’s voice a muffled cadence of indistinguishable words in the distance, unlike Poor Nyla. _“Yes! Like that! Harder! Oh fuck! Oh god yes! I’m coming! AAAHH!”_

“I think let’s go wider first, so it’s more stable at the base. I think that may have been where we went wrong last time.” Anders nodded.

“I think you’re right. We went too high, too soon, last time.”

 

*

 

Shaking sweat dampened hair from his eyes, Zevran panted, pushed her legs open, and laid on top of her, just wanting to feel her close to him; breasts against his chest, long legs around him, he fucked her vigorously, claiming her mouth with his own, moaning against her lips, tasting their sweat.

Extending his arms to rest on his palms, he placed them next to her head so he could roll his hips, pounding hard into her, watching her move inch by inch closer to the headboard. _“Ah. Fuck. Yes. Nyla.”_ He groaned, feeling her come around him again and her legs splayed wide open. _Nope, not this position._ Way too good, way too easy to accidentally go off, he pulled away from her, sitting up on his knees and looking down at her.

“God damn.” Nyla panted with a chuckle, smiling up at him and running her hands along his arms. “You could let me do some of the work. Some reverse cowgirl?”

“Oh?” Zevran purred, straddling her thigh and lifting her other leg to rest it on his shoulder. He rolled his hips and groaned, gently nipping her calf. “Does my Nyla favor this position?”

“I like this one.” She gasped, tingling sensations shivering through her core and up her spine, making her shudder and moan. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her back arching.

“Come for me again, mi amore?” Zevran purred, feeling the telltale tension of her inner muscles. She panted, head tilting back, she couldn’t reach him, needed something to grab. Whispering sweet nothings in Spanish, Zevran looked upon her in awe as graceful arms reached out to her sides to grab the sheets, and she pulled; knuckles white, back arched, head tossed back, she moaned, long and loud.

Trembling, she let go of the sheets, senses so far gone she forgot to swear or shout anything. Strong arms pulled her up, pulled her into a tight embrace, lips on her neck and chest, she whimpered at the gentle movement of him inside of her as she straddled his thighs.  

“Okay amor?” Zevran held her close, stroking her cheek.

“Mmm hmm.” She chuckled breathlessly opening her eyes to meet his soft, mirthful gaze. Glowing with the blush of his exertion and a sheen of sweat, Nyla took a moment to bask in his loving stare; his lips subtly swollen from eager and plentiful kisses, wisps of stringy, sweat-dampened hair laid against his cheeks and she smiled for him. Wrapping her arms around him and leaning in for a kiss, she whispered, “You have epic sex hair.”

“Because Zevran is having epic sex,” he whispered back, eager for more kisses, more of her loving touch, the taste of her sweat and the roll of her hips. Her arms wrapped around his neck, she kissed him eagerly, her hips undulating, whimpering and groaning her pleasure. “Te amo,” Zevran whispered with a breathy groan as she rocked her hips.

Placing her feet flat on the bed, her arms around the back of his neck to stabilize herself, she slowly moved up and down, indulging in the sight of Zevran in the throes of pleasure; his eyes half closed, lips parted, breathy moans with every downstroke. “I love you,” Nyla whispered between gentle moans, “te amo. You’re so beautiful, Zevran. So much love for you. I am yours.”

“Beautiful.” Zevran met her eyes, transfixed by her lusty gaze. “Te amo.”  Her legs trembled and he held her, lifted her off of his cock, and settled her on her knees in front of himself. “Turn around, preciosa.”

As Nyla turned around eagerly she wondered, _why didn’t I think of this!?_ From her hands and knees she looked back at him to see Zevran stroking his cock indulgently, looking at her ass and inching closer to her, and her belly clenched in a little orgasm that made her body shudder and her eyes flutter closed.

“I saw that,” Zevran smirked with a sultry purr, dragging the head of his dick along her swollen folds. Whispering in Spanish, giving her something sexy to hear, he watched his cock glide into her, withdrawing again so slowly just to indulge in the sight of it.

“Zevran.” Nyla’s forearms hit the bed, and she trembled. “Oh, so good,” she gasped and held the bedsheets in her fists. “Harder,” she whimpered, and he did not comply, so thrusted back, her thighs meeting his with a gentle slap. “Oh shit… oh my god…” She gasped, moaning with him, stomach clenching in anticipation of riding him to another orgasm.

 

*

 

“We’re out of milk.” Leliana sighed. “Shit. We were supposed to get it while we were out.”

“Oh!” Anders piped up. “I’ll go get some.”

“No it’s alright. I’ll just take my tea black.” Leliana pouted. “I’d rather-”

The dull sound of a creaking mattress began again.

“I’d rather work on our project.” She spoke a little louder and set their tea cups on the counter, so not to disturb the table.

“I don’t mind.” Anders shrugged. “I’d be back in twenty minutes.”

The mattress creaked faster, the sound of skin on skin; rhythmic sounds grew in volume and intensity.

“Thanks, but this is fine. In lieu of being out of milk, I made myself a nice earl grey vanilla and rose blend, with subtle notes of almond and orange peel.” Leliana sipped her tea and stared at their house of cards. “You think it’s wide enough yet?”

A feminine gasp and cry echoed through the house, _“Oh god! Oh god! Yes! Zev! I love you, Zevran!’_

“Awww, she said she loves him.” Anders handed Leliana two cards. “It sounds nice, new blend?”

“Yes!” Leliana excitedly held the cup out to him. “I mail ordered it! I didn’t tell you?”

 

 

*

 

“I love you!” Nyla called out, reaching behind herself, grasping his thighs, gasping, head tossed back. Wet kisses on the back of her neck, his hands wandering, grasping her breasts, he glided a hand lower to stroke her folds. _“Oh! Oh! Like that! Yes! Oh holy fuck yes!”_ She stilled as he worked her, his hips moving fast, and hand stroking her with practiced ease. _“Fuuuck!”_ Nyla cried out, and a splash hit his legs.

“Fuck.” Zevran growled. That was _too hot._ Squirting girlfriend was too fucking hot. That was too much.

Grabbing her hands from his thighs, he nudged them toward the headboard, rested her hands on it, and laced his fingers with hers. He pounded her, on the cusp of his own completion, breathy growls and moans, she squealed, the headboard knocked into the wall over and over, bed creaking furiously, the sharp and frenzied slap of skin on skin; too sexy.

 _“Nyla...”_ he groaned desperately, leaning over her, burying his face in her neck to bite. Rolling his hips in long hard strokes, he pounded his screaming girlfriend until he groaned her name again in the midsts of his shuddering orgasm. Hips stuttering to a halt, he panted. Groaning breathlessly with her in his arms, he managed to unclench his teeth after a few moments, leaving a bite mark on her neck; it made him happy.

Pulling her down to the bed with him, he chuckled breathlessly with her as she turned to face him, and they curled up in each other's arms.

“Jesus god.” Nyla whimpered, still catching her breath.

“Okay, amor?” Zevran let loose another breathless, contented chuckle, running a hand through her sweat-dampened hair and lavishing her face with kisses.

“No.” She laughed again, her breath slowing, basking in his post-coital affection. “My entire life is… completely different now. God damn.”

“Mmm.” They cuddled closer, legs tangled, her hand lovingly caressed his back.

“I am ravenously hungry, and I need a lot of water.” She sighed, opening her eyes to see his blissful stare. “Stop looking at me like that, before we fuck each other to death.”

Zevran laughed. They laid together, listening to the hearts and breath of each other until they grew calm and relaxed.

“Food, amor?” Reluctantly, Zevran pulled away from their sweaty, sexy, dreamy, sheet-tangled cocoon. Looking around his room, paintings were askew on his walls, several items including a lamp fell off one of his end tables, and bedcovers and pillows were strewn about haphazardly. Placing the lamp back on the table, he smiled at the detritus that was once his bedroom, and found some pants. “I’ll go find us something.”

“No!” Nyla sat up. “I’m coming.”

“Mmm hmm,” he spoke with a chuckle, “This is normal.”

“You.” She chuckled, her head feeling clear and light despite the sex that had just happened to her.

Zevran handed her his t-shirt. “I cannot seem to locate your clothes. All I see is… one tennis shoe.”

Pulling on his shirt, Nyla crawled across the bed; Zevran picked her up and placed her on her feet with a dreamy kiss.

“My legs!” Nyla wobbled around, with a chuckle, clinging to him for stability.

 _“Ha!”_ Zevran pointed at her, “See!?”

“It’s a thing!” Nyla clung to him, “My legs are useless!”

Turning around, he helped her onto his back and proceeded toward the kitchen.

 

“Almost there.” Leliana’s palms were sweating as she watched Anders lay the last card along the four cards she held up.

“Don’t move, that’s perfect.” Anders whispered, concentrating, his fingers jerked, and they paused with held breath; nothing fell over. The cards stacked perfectly, and they backed away slowly, staring at their creation in awe.

“We did it.” Leliana beamed, “We used every card!” Giggles and footfalls sounded down the stairs. “Zev! We did it!” Leliana called out triumphantly.

“What a coincidence! So did we!” Zevran called back.

 _“They’re here?”_ Nyla buried her face in the back of Zevran’s neck as he proceeded toward the kitchen.

“Of course they are here, amor. They live here. Where else would they be?”

“I..." Nyla sputtered, stuttered, and lost her shit. _"I would have at least attempted to be quieter!”_

“As if!” Zevran spoke with a lighthearted chuckle. “Screamer.”

Her face felt hot. She wanted to melt through the floor, then die, then get to the other side and melt through the floor again, and then die in the afterlife. _“Oh my fucking god!”_

“Save it for the bedroom, Sketchbook Girl.” Anders teased in a sing-song voice, still staring in awe and wonderment at their creation..

 _“That’s why you call me Sketchbook Girl!”_ She pressed her face harder against the back of Zevran’s neck. _“Oh fuck!”_

“Also for the bedroom.” Anders withheld laughter.

_“GOD DAMN!”_

“This is too easy,” Anders chuckled. “Like someone we know.”

“Zevran!” Nyla pleaded for help, but he was too busy shaking with silent giggles. “Fuck!”

“She’s still going on, even in the kitchen,” Leliana tsked, shaking her head.

“Take me upstairs?” Nyla cringed when they laughed. “I hate _everything!”_

“We are just grabbing snacks and water.” Zevran tiptoed through, smiling, mindful of their finally completed project.

“Wait, they have seen the sketchbooks!?” Nyla died even harder, clinging to Zevran, “That’s not what I look like naked!”

“Nooo.” Zevran chuckled. “Not at all wildly accurate.” Grabbing their bag of cookies from the cupboard, Nyla clung to him.

“Why do you hate me?” Nyla was well past the point of rage and on the cusp of crumbling into a pile of defeated laughter. “Zevran, why do you hate me?”

“No, no, amor.” He grabbed a few bottles of water from the fridge. “Zevran loves you, but... he also loves to see you crumble in despair.”

“We heard.” Anders spoke wryly.

“We are going back upstairs now.” Zevran stopped to smile at his friends, and to torment his precious girlfriend for a moment longer.

“Try to keep it down, hmm?” Leliana stared at their prized house of cards and smirked, trying hard not to laugh.

“Okay,” Nyla spoke, sounding defeated. “You know...”

All eyes pointed at Nyla, and she smiled a wicked smile. Her arm shot out, and with a spoken, playful, _“Boop!”_ the house of cards tumbled over. Cards slid off the table, onto the floor, and she giggled at the card that went zipping away to end up beneath the oven.

“Well played, amor,” Zevran said with a smile. His girlfriend cheered up, he took her back to his room for a snack and another romp.

* * *

NSFW Art by [xla-hainex](http://xla-hainex.tumblr.com/commissions/) on tumblr.


	17. Chapter 17

“Hello?”

“Hola, amor.” Zevran smiled. She usually answered on the second ring… this time she answered on the fourth. He held a paintbrush between his teeth and picked up another. “Took you awful long time to answer,” he teased.

“What are you painting over there?” He could hear the smile in her voice. “I hear that paint brush between your teeth.”

“Zevran is pretending we are famous bachata dancers,” he spoke, using his smallest brush to paint fine lines on her bright red, pouty lips. “I need to see you wear more red.”

“I will wear more red for you,” Nyla smiled, her cheeks heating with flattery and utter endearment; he was painting them together again. “Do you want to take some bachata classes with me?”

“Cannot afford, or you know I would.”

“Oh.” She refrained from saying, _I’ll pay for it._ “Did you call for a reason, sweetheart, or did you just need contact?”

“Both. Tonight you work?”

“I’m already back from work.” Nyla spoke patiently; he never remembered her schedule, especially when deep in his own work.

“Missing you. Hang out tonight? Watch a movie, play video games, screw, have tacos,” taking the brush from his teeth and replacing it with the other, he continued, “screw more.”

She sniffled deeply and cleared her throat. “Sure. Maybe around nine? You can spend the night if you want.”

“Hmm.” Zevran furrowed his brow and put down his paint brushes, holding the phone with his hand instead of his shoulder. Her sniffles, failure to laugh at his joke, and, come to think of it, she sounded a little somber. “Amor?”

“Still here, honey.”

“Do you need anything from me?” He asked gently, knowing tears did not always mean trouble.

“No thank you. I’m going to go take care of some things before you arrive.”

“Love you, amor,” he spoke with a soft smile.

“Love you, love,” Nyla giggled, hanging up the phone.

 

*******

 

Zevran stopped to rent a movie. One he thought she would like. Something with lots of emotion, lots of dialogue, and low action because it stressed her out too much. Three tacos, chicken and green pepper, two beef and cheese; her favorite. Too early to go over, he stopped and bought her a small bouquet of wildflowers.

 

 _Amor_  
_Hey_  
_Nyla_  
_Nyla_  
_I left the house too soon so Zevran is coming now._  
_Say absolutely nothing if this is ok._

 

Receiving no answer felt odd, a little painful, especially that she had been crying. He reminded himself that she was not at his beck and call, he didn't own her, and the possessive part of himself, the part that worried for her oftentimes far too much, calmed. Which was good! Showing up in a bad mood was never a good thing.

Approaching her door, he tilted his head at the distinctly male voice coming through. _Not a good feeling,_ Zevran frowned, and knocked. _Do not make assumptions._ He sighed deeply to settle himself, and felt much better. Of course, his Nyla was no cheat. _Everything is fine._

The door swung open and the crestfallen face of his girlfriend startled him. “Zev, you’re too early,” she shut the door behind herself.

“Yes, for the sake of my sanity, please explain the man voice I heard,” he spoke calmly.

“Oh, honeylove, it's nothing like that,” Nyla wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head firmly in the space between his head and shoulder with an exaggerated sigh.

“Preciosa,” he crooned, believing her completely, his hands too full of things to return her hug. “Something is wrong?”

“It’s Fergus,” she whispered. “I thought he would be gone by now but he just keeps talking.”

“I wish to meet him!” Zevran spoke quickly. “I’m sad you did not invite me to meet him. Also not surprised.”

“Ah.” Nyla sighed nervously, clearing her throat. “Okay, listen. He sent me a text, I never answer his texts, and he said he’s coming over today and… fuck. I figured I could face him now because I _have_ to but it just _feels like shit.”_ Slowing down for a moment, she looked into his eyes, “Okay, Zevran, will you come in and meet my brother?”

“So nice of you to ask!” he chuckled, “Yes. And seriously, fucking _relax_ a little, hmm?”

Nyla opened the door with a snort. “Don’t tell me what to do. You don’t know what I’m contending with.”

Following her into the kitchen, Zevran saw the dark-haired, dark-eyed man sitting on their chair in the livingroom. The only chair in the house. The chair Nyla sat in while Zevran stripped for her. The chair Zevran and Nyla referred to as ‘the sex chair.’ Meeting her eyes, cringing with a little giggle and a shake of his head, Nyla elbowed him with a _tsk._ He took a vase out of the cupboard, filled it with water and flowers. His girlfriend always had a delayed reaction to flowers, she would fawn over them later when it sunk in.

Big brother saw the blond man follow her in, tattoos on his face. _How… unorthodox._ Fergus shook his head and sighed. The blond man made himself right at home, putting flowers in a vase; little sister was apparently seeing someone, and she hadn’t told him. _Figures,_ he thought sadly _. Leather jacket._ Fergus sighed again. _Unbelievable. Great. A bad boy in a leather jacket with tattoos on his face. Dad would lose his shit._

“Fergus?” She spoke up headed toward the living room, “Someone here I want you to- _ow fuck!_ God fucking damn shit fucking fuckballs!” Nyla hopped for a moment and fell over, running out of swear-word creativity. _“Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!”_

“Ohh, shit.” Zevran watched her go down with a sympathetic gaze. Just like her, to take this special moment and make it as weird as humanly possible. Kneeling by her where she sat on the floor, he pulled her close. “Ahh. Preciosa, perdón.”

“Does it look broken?” She cringed, wiggling it with a pained hiss. “God damn.”

“It looks like a toe, amor.” He spoke gently, tilting his head at her. “Tylenol and ice pack?”

 _Alright, that’s good, he’s not cramming hydrocodone up her nose._ Fergus ran a hand over his head, realizing he had just called her ‘love.’

“I think it’s okay, maybe later if it still hurts,” Nyla pouted.

“Okay, amor?” A hand on her cheek, he met her apprehensive gaze and smiled, “Introduce me to big brother, si?”

Fergus relaxed, after all, anyone who looked at his little sister like that couldn’t be too bad. “Fergus,” he stood up from the sex chair with a hand out and Zevran stood up to shake it firmly.

“Zevran Arainai.” He smiled, meeting the very tall man’s eyes; he looked very similar to his Nyla, and it made him like the man immediately. “I see who got all the height in the family.”

 _“Mmm!”_ Nyla’s exasperated voice rang out. _Mother fucker._ With a defeated sigh she stretched her legs out and scooted to lean back against the wall. “Fergus, this is... the man who did my tattoo.”

“I see.” Fergus spoke sitting back down in the sex chair; Zevran died a little inside as their sex chair was officially ruined.

“He also did the painting hanging above my head,” she pointed.

“Also the one hanging in her room.” Zevran added, sitting next to her and taking off his jacket.

Nyla elbowed him, “That one is mine,” she spoke calmly, ready to explode. _How did you ever think this was a good idea, Nyla? HOW, NYLA, HOW?_

“Were you ever going to tell me you were in a relationship?” Fergus spoke, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “How long have you been together?”

“Let’s see...” Zevran bent his knee, lacing his fingers around the front of his calf. Gesturing toward Nyla with his head he spoke, “This dork has been my girlfriend for seven months. How about you, anyone special in your life?”

“Zev.” Nyla chuckled, nervously, looking at the floor and beginning to sweat. “It’s not our business.”

“That… that right there, Nyla.” Fergus shook his head. “It sucks you don’t even have curiosity about me anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” She spoke softly, head falling forward. “It just feels so weird with you.”

“Weird how?” Zevran looked at her curiously. “Big brother seems a decent fellow.”

Meeting Zevran’s gaze she spoke softly, “It’s like I feel too guilty to face him.”

“Do you still think I blame you for what happened?” Fergus asked, keenly aware of the stranger in the room, but she had relaxed so much since he arrived. Zevran’s question encouraged her to open up a little more, and she even shared something personal.

“No, Fergus. I know you don’t blame me for what happened.” Nyla relaxed into Zevran’s touch, feeling a lot about that he would hold her hand in front of her brother. “I feel guilty for the last fight we had, how I walked out the way I did, and that you still support me after all that I had done.”

“It was _just_ a fight,” Fergus insisted. “It wasn’t so bad. Not worth losing the last of my family over.”

“Because _you_ weren’t a colossal asshole.” Nyla tried to pull her hand away to cover her face, and Zevran held her tighter, leaving her with only one hand to hide behind. “I _was_ a colossal asshole _,_ and I don’t fucking want to face you. I just want you to leave me alone and keep paying for my shit, and that makes me _more_ of an asshole. I just hate myself _so fucking much_ when I think of you.”

“I’m not that hurt over it.” Fergus spoke quickly, _fucking finally something other than cold dismissals._ “Really, it’s not that hard to manage your finances, I’m _glad_ to help. Just… everything you had been through… I _want_ you to have it easy until you’re ready to get back on your feet. Get back to doing something with your life again.”

“I _am_ doing something with my life!” Nyla wiped tears away and looked up at him with an angry stare.

“Take it easy, amor,” Zevran spoke up. “We all know you’re too smart to waitress forever. This is what he means.”

“I didn’t even _know_ she’s a waitress.” Fergus spoke incredulously. “We used to talk every night. Every single night. I told you _everything_.”

“Yeah, you did,” Nyla chuckled, shaking her head. “Fergus, why are you even here?”

“You said you wanted to move. I didn’t know _why._ I wondered if you were in some kind of trouble, you didn’t follow up with me.”

“I said I was thinking about it.” Nyla pursed her lips, glancing at Zevran, his curious stare on her. “Forewarning you a move might happen soon.”

“Did you want to come home?” Fergus asked hopefully. “You are welcome back to the house.”

“Nope.” Zevran cut in with a playful tone, “Fergus had her for several years, she is Zevran’s now.”

“Doesn’t it drive you crazy that he refers to himself in the third person?” Fergus repressed a smile.

“Zevran is still right here,” he chuckled. _I needed another tall asshole in my life_.

“It’s endearing.” Smiling at Fergus, she began to remember what she loved about her big brother; he was hilarious, and they really did tell each other everything. “And also yes, it drives me a little crazy.” Her hands raised to display two thumbs up, “But the sex is _fantastic.”_

Zevran snorted and withheld laughter wondering if she was trying to get him killed, while Fergus laughed hard, clapping his hands together, and then hid behind them for a few moments. Lowering his hands, he clasped them in front of himself. Fergus looked square at her and spoke with a sigh, “Dork.”

“Says the man who does finger guns,” she rebutted, rolling her eyes.

Fergus did finger guns, the siblings laughed hard, and Zevran had no idea what was going on.

After taking a minute to pull his shit together, Fergus spoke, “You were saying, about moving?”

“Zevran is keeping her,” Zevran reminded them in a sing-song voice, not betraying at all his fear that she might actually want to move away.

“God damn, Fergus, I haven’t had a chance to talk to Zevran about it yet.” Nyla spoke, exasperated. “Making it fuckin’ weird.”

“We will talk about it now.” Zevran spoke softly, biting his lip and betraying his nervousness. “In Nyla’s room.”

“Be right back, Fergus.” Nyla stood with Zevran and they headed toward her room. “Dipshit.”

Closing her door behind them Nyla sighed nervously. “Our father was a stickler for clean language, so we all swore liberally behind his back for fun. Kind of an inside family joke thing so you’ll hear me insult him at random intervals for no particular reason. My mom and I used to call each other hoes.”

“Amor.” He met her eyes and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Please tell me about this moving business.” She sighed, her eyes grew moist and she bit her lip. “Nyla, are you leaving me?”

 _“No!”_ She answered quickly, her eyes wide, “Shit, darling, no absolutely not. Jesus. No. Zevran I… want you to live with me. Live together. In the same place. One we choose together.”

“Ah.” Zevran let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You don’t have to answer right now.” Nyla spoke quickly, “No pressure, I don’t even know if I’m asking too soon or… or… whatever I mean… I just…” she slowed down, stepped closer to him, looked into his golden-brown eyes, and told him the truth. “We fucking belong together, Zevran.”

Meeting her soft, ernest stare, he wanted to fuck her brains out, and he may have if they didn’t have company. “Zevran knows this, brave Nyla.”

Reaching a hand out, he cradled her face, dark, sparkling eyes staring at him in adoration. A place of their own. No more dragging clothes from one place to another. No more wishing she was there to go home to. No more missing each other for days because of work schedules. And they could have sex whenever they wanted it. His lips met hers for a soft and satisfying kiss, and he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers.

“Amor,” he whispered, meeting her smile with his own, “I want furniture.”

“Done.” Nyla responded softly, kissing him again. “You have made me very happy,” she spoke between kisses, “and I will show you later, exactly how happy.”

Taking his hand, they headed back to the living room.

“I am excited to tell Leli,” Zevran smiled, raising her hand to press a kiss to it.

“I bet she’ll cry.” Nyla sat against the wall and looked at Fergus, curling up close to Zevran beneath his arm. “Okay, fuckface. Definitely moving, Zevran and I are going to live together.”

“You just decided this now? Don’t you need time to think about it?” Fergus paused and looked at Nyla, “Skank.”

Nyla chuckled, “Do you think _that_ line of questioning will make us come to our senses, fuckboy?”

“Never once, have I seen you come to your senses, bitchface.”

A sweet moment Zevran witnessed, Nyla and her big brother beaming at each other in the glow of a familiar game of a most unpleasant nature.

“So,” Fergus continued, “Do you plan on staying in the Bay Area?”

“Yes, I’m hoping to find something where Zevran can have his own studio, and roof access.”

“And then Zevran will make her have his daughter,” Zevran teased with a smile, distracted by the buzz of his phone. He retrieved it from his jacket pocket. “Hola, tall asshole, what do you want?” The sound of Anders’ voice made him jump up and walk to the kitchen.

“Nyla, I’m not sure if I want to tell you he’s adorable, or punch him for saying he wants to knock up my sister.”

“Both is good,” Nyla spoke absently, her eye on Zevran as he paced the kitchen, “assclown.” Standing up, she went toward him, a finger held up to Fergus indicating for him to wait a moment. “Something is wrong.”

Approaching Zevran, his eyes flicked over to her briefly, brow furrowed, nibbling the inside of his cheek. She could vaguely hear the urgent chatter of Anders, words indistinguishable. Zevran palmed his face with a sigh.

“Si. Si. Of course.” He paused, “Si, I am sure she will come. Have you eaten today? Can I bring anything for you? Okay. See you soon.” Hanging up the phone, he met Nyla’s eyes, his lips quivering. “Leli is hurt.”

 

*******

 

Nyla woke from her nap on the couch with Zevran cuddled up beside her; his head on her belly, arms snug around her hips. Watching him sleep, his breath even and face relaxed, Nyla matched her breathing with his; how she loved these intimate and domesticated moments. The smell of eggplant parmesan wafted from the kitchen.

“Ow… ow… okay. I’m okay.” Leliana whimpered, her voice carrying down the hall as her bedroom door opened.

“Can you make it?” Anders asked softly, “We can turn around and you can have dinner in bed.”

“No I want to eat at the table with you. When I say I am really really tired of being in my room, I’m not kidding.”

“Okay lean on me as much as you need okay?”

Leliana’s groans and whimpers carried through the house, ribs still healing from the accident. A car had rear ended hers going fifty miles per hour, sending her vehicle careening into the back of another; Anders had almost lost her in a very real way.

Nyla watched with a full heart as Leliana took her seat at the table for the first time since being home. Anders tried helping Leliana move her chair nearer the table which caused her a great deal of pain, and Nyla smiled at the sweetness of Leliana’s joyful cooing as he moved the table closer to her.

“Anders, I’m in a different room!” Leliana chuckled happily, clasping her hands together with a satisfied sigh.

“Dinner still has to cool. Zevran told me how to make his eggplant parmesan for you. I hope it came out right. What kind of tea would you like?” He asked, leaning down to be eye level with her.

“Thank you, Anders,” Leliana smiled. “I’d like something bitter I think.”

“A strong cup of oolong?” He grinned at her nod and spoke, “You got it.”

“Anders?” Leliana reached out and took his hand just as he started moving away.

“Hmm?” He met her eyes.

Nyla nudged Zevran, and his head shot up to look at her. With a finger on her lips, she indicated for him to be silent, mouthing the word _Lelianders_ with a smile _,_ pointing toward the kitchen. Snuggling his cheek against his girlfriend's soft belly, he witnessed something that made him want to immediately throw a fucking parade.

“I don’t know what this would have been like without you,” Leliana gazed at him longingly.

Anders rested a palm on her cheek; she blushed beautifully, with softness in her striking blue eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you. I really don’t.” Anders leaned in, his lips meeting her forehead, closing his eyes so not to cry. “Love you, Leli.”

“I love you.” Leliana responded softly, pulling him in for a gentle kiss on his lips. “I really do.”

Zevran looked at Nyla with his eyes wide and pointed at them with his mouth hanging open, while Nyla’s hands flapped through the air, mouth agape with silent screaming. They shushed each other with frantic hand gestures, laying still on the couch. Leliana and Anders shared a long kiss; long overdue and much needed.

Their tender moment outlasted the kiss. They chuckled at each other tearfully, blushing, gentle fingers tucking hair behind ears, soft caresses on cheeks.

“Would you like your tea now?” Anders spoke lovingly, beaming and blushing, holding her hand, pressing gentle, loving kisses to her knuckles. “Always wanted to do that,” he whispered, feeling the new territory in which they were treading, and loving every moment.

“I’d love some tea now,” Leliana sniffled, and Anders swept her tears away with a smile. “Anders? Didn’t you say Zevla were going to be here to have dinner with us?”

At the mere mention of their names, they went limp and closed their eyes, feigning sleep.

“They’re upstairs I think, I’ll get them.” Walking to the bottom of the stairs he shouted, “Come down for dinner, you cowards! You fools!”

“We’re napping, tall asshole.” Zevran spoke groggily from the couch. Nyla stretched with a fake yawn.

“You’ve been on the couch the whole time?” Anders quirked an eyebrow at them, blushing.

“The whole time we have been napping, yes.” Zevran stood, helping his girlfriend off of the couch. “And then some tall asshole started shouting obscenities about Zevran’s tiny girlfriend. How dare.”

“I’m not tiny. I’m average.” Nyla went into the kitchen, brushing her hair with her fingers. “Don’t fuck with me yet I’m not quite awake.”

“National average is still 5’5.” Leliana reminded her.

“And I’m 5’3, which is very close to 5’5.”

“That’s a full two inches _below_ average! You can’t be still average while being shorter than average _.”_ Leliana insisted with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh my god!” Nyla looked at Leliana with eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“Leli, what have you done?” Zevran sighed, seeing the devastated stare on his girlfriend's pretty face.

“Oh no.” Nyla’s palm raised to lay on her chest, expressing incredulity and exasperation. “I’m- _I’m fucking short!”_

* * *

_ _

_Art by[sagasketchbook](http://sagasketchbook.deviantart.com/) on deviantart. _


	18. Chapter 18

“Hey,” Nyla spoke softly with a hand on his arm, “stop painting and look at me.”

Pausing mid stroke, Zevran looked at her hand, then at her concerned face, and asserted patiently, “I said I do not wish to talk about it.”

“Put the brushes down, Zevran. Even the one in your teeth. Even though you are adorable when you do that.” Ignoring his irritated sigh, she licked her thumb and scrubbed a streak of white across his cheek. “Sad, grumpy man. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nyla, please. I invited you here because I just want you near.”

“And you should know better than to believe I would sit here and do nothing when you’re feeling like this.” Smiling, she scrubbed at the splotch of blue on his forehead.

“Stop grooming me,” he insisted backing away from her hand.

“How do you do this? Honey, you have paint in your _hair.”_ Nyla chuckled, leaving the blue alone. His body felt stiff when she wrapped her arms around his waist. Tilting her head at the painting she whispered, “Swans on the water. You miss your mother.”

That he was so transparent to her didn’t surprise him so much, and hearing it spoken aloud relaxed him more than he could have anticipated. He softened in her arms. “Today is mamá’s birthday.”

“Ohhh,” Nyla crooned, running fingers through his hair. Chewing her lip thoughtfully, Nyla met his eyes and asked, “What were her birthdays like?”

His eyes sparkled with his smile. “She loved birthdays, being surrounded by family and friends. I remember her face, the way she enjoyed all the attention.”

“What were her birthdays like for _you?”_

“So fun. When I was small, I would draw her a picture, make her a card with my colored pencils. I was very good back then, for a child. As I got older, the cards got more elaborate, colored pencil pictures became paintings. She displayed every one of them, and would tell everyone about them. She loved the chance to brag. Embarrassed me, sometimes.”

 _“You?_ Embarrassed?” Nyla grinned, “Never.”

“Well,” he chuckled, “bashful, maybe.”

“Aha... Yes, I have seen bashful Zevran several times.” Treading lightly, she locked eyes with him and started slowly, “I want to get her a gift.”

“Oh?” Zevran chuckled at his sweet girlfriend. “What gift would you bring her?”

“You. I bet hearing from you would make this her best birthday.”

“Probably,” he sighed with a nod. It took him a few moments to process her expectant stare. “Amor,” his forehead wrinkled and lips pursed, “You did this on purpose. Making me miss her more, and then telling me how to make her happy. Unfair.”

“Mm hm. You have her number?”

“It is in my memory, but she probably changed it.”

“I bet not. No matter how many years have passed I would never change my phone number if my kid went missing. I bet she’s praying for the day-”

“Fuck.” Zevran stepped away from her. “Stop.”

“You walked away eight years ago, yes, it makes sense that you walked away, _but-”_

“I want to stop talking about this.”

“Just… listen. Please.” She waited, he nodded. “I’m going to be square with you right now, Zevran. You should have called her years ago when things calmed down.” Watching him palm his face, she continued, “Kind of like the way I neglected Fergus. When I spoke with him, when I finally had you by my side as a buffer, nothing was as bad as my fears made it out to be. Look at me, Zevran.” She waited a moment for his eyes to meet hers again and spoke firmly, “Call your fuckin' mom.”

“I don’t even know _how_ to call out of the country with my phone.”

Nyla walked over to his bedside table and picked up her phone. “The exit code is 011. Country code is 52.”

“Why do you know this?” Zevran chuckled nervously, beginning to sweat.

“All part of my plan to get you to call home, darling. I even have my phone set up for international calls. Is it a cell phone or landline?”

“I cannot believe you,” he grumbled as she stared at him expectantly. “Landline.”

“And now, your mom’s number,” she held her phone out to him. “Go on.”

“I did not force you to speak to Fergus,” he continued his irritated grumbling, hands entering the phone number despite his reluctance.

“I’m not forcing you. Now hit the call button.”

“Mierda,” _Shit,_ he whispered with shaky hands, tapping the call button. “So cruel, Nyla.”

“Ohhh, come on,” she crooned playfully, freezing when she heard a feminine voice chime in on the line. Zevran gasped, and simply stood there, the sounds of a repeated gentle _‘hola?’_ on the line. “Honey…” Nyla whispered, resting a gentle hand on his arm. She took the phone from him and turned on the speakerphone. “Hi! Hola. Hey… me llamo Nyla… do you speak English?”

“Yes, Nyla, hi. I can help you with something?”

“Yes… Happy birthday.” She looked up at Zevran, who stared at the phone with lower lip trembling, tears slipping down his cheeks. He walked to his bed and sat, cupping his mouth with his palm. Nyla followed, sat next to him and stroked his back, “Would you like to talk to Zevran? He is here on speaker phone, he is just feeling a lot right now.”

 _“Si! Yes!_ Sweet girl, Nyla, yes of course I wish to speak with him! Zev?”

“He talks just like you,” Nyla smiled.

“Ahh,” she laughed, “Talking is what we do best, Zevran, no?

Zevran cleared his throat and leaned toward the phone, “Si, mamá. Hola. Feliz cumpleaños.” _Happy birthday._

“Hola! Thank you! Baby sounds so _old_ now! Where are you? Is Nyla your girlfriend?”

“Yes!” Zevran sniffled, visibly relaxing, taking the phone from Nyla’s hand. “Nyla is my girlfriend for almost a year now, we are moving together soon when we find a place here in San Francisco.”

“Aha! Si! Yes! I knew you would end up in San Francisco!” Her voice jovial and sweet, she continued, “I knew you would call someday. After we heard on the news what happened to Rinna, we put the pieces together. Poor sweet Rinna. Hold on, baby. I will call your madre. _Dolores!”_ With the phone away from her, they could hear her shouting in Spanish, the only words distinguishable to Nyla were their names, and a startled exclamation of _‘San Francisco!’_

“Zev, wait a fucking second.” Nyla quirked an eyebrow at him, “Do you have two moms?”

“You did not know this?” He tilted his head at her. “I told you! And I refer to them as mamá and madre. Two separate people, amor.”

“I misunderstood! You could have referred to them as Dolores and… shit...”

“Mamá is Rosa. For an entire year, amor? Seriously?”

“You were being vague on purpose!” Nyla insisted with a chuckle, “Because you were always like _‘I don’t wanna talk about it.’_ Two moms! So much stuff makes sense now!”

“Zevran!” A surprised and angry voice got on the phone, chattering in Spanish.

Zevran sighed, his forehead wrinkled, and he sat patiently through the onslaught he had anticipated from her. “Perdón, madre. After you are done, speak English so we may include Nyla.”

“I cannot _believe_ you!” Dolores laughed, “Eight years? You waited too long! Nyla! I’m Dolores, did you make him call?”

“Hi Dolores! I encouraged him a little, he made the call on his own,” she smiled at him with a wink, mouthing the words _I love you._

“She sounds very sweet. I cannot believe! Eight years, Zevran!”

“Nyla is sweet, when it works for her,” Zevran smiled with a chuckle, Nyla laughed.

Dolores laughed hard, “So you married your mamá.”

“Not married, but I take your meaning. Yes, I married mamá.” His cheeks felt sore from incessant grinning.

“Come to see us!” Dolores spoke, “Mamá is tugging at my arm. Rosa, mi amor, give me a moment hm? Eight years, Zevran! What do you do for work? Are you still painting? What, Rosa? Oh yes! You have Skype? We talk to your uncles in the States with Skype. Zevran! Do you visit your uncles?”

“I have Skype on my phone,” Zevran spoke, chuckling at his other mom's excited chatter. Nyla went for his phone. A few minutes later, the familiar, grinning faces of Zevran’s moms displayed on his phone.

With a mutual gasp, their tearful eyes stared back at them. Dolores laughed, “Get a haircut, Arainai!”

“My baby!” Rosa waved, laughing happily, “There's Nyla! Hi, Nyla! She is so smiley!”

“She is!” Zevran kissed Nyla on the cheek when she draped herself over his back, her chin on his shoulder, wiggling her fingers at Zevran’s moms. “Feliz cumpleaños, mamá. Are you having a party today?”

“I haven’t had one in a long while, precious,” Rosa spoke, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “I miss your paintings. I feel sad I don’t get one every birthday.”

“I did not forget you, mamá. I have your birthday paintings.” He pointed the camera at the canvas on his easel. “This is the eighth. This one would be finished if Nyla did not bug me so often.”

“I wouldn’t bug him so often if he didn’t mope so loudly,” Nyla chuckled, pressing her cheek to his.

After an hour of catching up, they made promises to call, text, visit; everything Zevran had wanted for the last eight years.

 

*****  
**

 

“You said there is roof access?” Nyla tilted her head at Barbara, their real estate agent.

Zevran hung back, his eyes wandering the beautiful space. Large, centrally located, far more than he could ever hope for and he was already fantasizing about how he would decorate. Nyla looked at him quizzically for his silence.

“That door at the top of the stairs. There is a storage shed, a hot tub, as well as a hammock,” Barb spoke jovially. “The previous owners left it.”

“Come on, Zev.” Nyla reached for him and he took her hand. “We’ll be back in a moment.”

Climbing the short flight of stairs, they opened the door, and stepped out into the open air. “Yes,” Nyla spoke softly. “I want this. I love hammocks. I love hot tubs. Storage is cool, I guess.”

Looking around at the view, it was more than he could ever hope for; such a beautiful space, it felt too good, it ached. He could envision them living there, lying on the hammock in the cool evening breeze with his love lying on his chest and snoozing contentedly as he rocked them with one leg hanging.

“Speak to me, darling.” She spoke gently, meeting his eyes, “You don’t like it?”

“It is perfect, Nyla, but I cannot afford such a thing. My salary is generous, but not this generous.”

“I’m…” biting her lip, she sighed deeply and spoke shyly, “I’m very wealthy, Zevran.” Growing more nervous as he stared at her with wide, sad eyes she stammered, “My… my parents were…” looking at the ground, her cheeks turned pink.

“Hm.” Zevran spoke, tilting his head at her, folding his arms across his chest. “I figured as much, leaving a trail of evidence throughout the months, amor. Big nice apartment, always replacing my broken or lost things. And of course we cannot forget the Russian caviar.”

“No, listen.” Nyla chuckled, trying to drive the point home. “I don’t _have_ to work for the rest of my life. I can do what I want, go where I want, anytime. I’m _wealthy._ So wealthy it’s um… hard for me to realize the value of money, really.”

“I know. That perfume you wear that I cannot afford to gift you. We did shots of some very nice brandy that I wished to replace. Upon googling to locate where to find it, I learned costs thousands of dollars.” Zevran smirked, “Everything you own is Gucci, Louis Vuitton, or from Saks Fifth Avenue. Amor, you had a talk with your brother about managing your funds that I _witnessed._ The trail of evidence is so real.”

“Okay, so you get it now,” Nyla chuckled. “So, where is the confusion? You understand that I intend to pay for this.”

“Just because you have something, it doesn’t mean I’m entitled to it,” Zevran spoke softly, his brow furrowed. “I cannot live off of you, it’s not right.”

“Oh?” Nyla’s face fell, and she looked away from him for a few moments, growing frustrated. “Zevran, don’t you think you’ve worked hard enough? Suffered enough? Can’t you let yourself just have this? I _want_ you to have this... _us_ to have this.”

“It doesn’t feel right,” he insisted. “How do I contribute? What is my role in this partnership? I cannot be that guy that simply lives off of his partner.”

“Then feed me,” Nyla shrugged with a smile. “Buy our food and keep cooking amazing tacos for me for every meal, and we’ll call it even.”

“That is hardly-”

 _“Food,”_ Nyla insisted, gesturing around herself with a smile, “and all of this is yours.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Amor… I…” he looked around, beholding a view worthy of canvas. Visions of himself standing at an easel on their roof made him smile and he ran a hand through his hair. “God dammit.”

“Aha! You’re starting to agree with me, alright, hold on…” she thought for a moment. “That storage shed. You could keep painting stuff in it, so you don’t have to carry your supplies up and down the stairs. Then you can enjoy the outdoors when you go on one of your painting binges.”

“If it’s not too damp.” He nodded, sighing with a roll of his eyes, “Okay, but just _food?”_

“Yes, I expect a full stock of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, and _tacos._ With lamb, not ground beef, and _red_ peppers, not green. And fish tacos. With those spicy jalapeno flavored carrots. My food needs will be demanding.” Her smile matched his and she took his hand. With playful flirty eyes, she pleaded, “Come on, mi amor. Hermoso, maravilloso, asombroso amigo permanente con beneficios.” _Beautiful, wonderful, amazing permanent friend with benefits._

“You are learning,” he chuckled, beaming at her. “Permanent friend with benefits!” He laughed, looking once more at the view, his gaze landed on the hammock. It just felt like they _should_ be on it together. Melting beneath her hopeful stare he nodded slowly, “Si.” He grinned when she flung her arms around his neck with a joyful squeal.

 

*******

 

“A gift. In celebration of you being a total dick, all the time,” Nyla spoke with a smile, carefully pushing a box across the table. Anders moved to pick it up and she reached out, “Just… lift the lid.”

“O...kay.” He bit his lip, reaching for the lid, expecting a fucking pie to spring out and smash into his face or a hundred slinkies to fly in every direction. “But Zev, why are you filming this?”

“Open it!” Leliana spoke excitedly, pinching his ass. “The tension is killing me.”

“Open.” Zevran nodded, adding with a purr, “if you dare.”

“Okay what the fuck,” he chuckled, “What are you-”

“Oh, jesus christ.” Nyla rolled her eyes and pulled the lid off the box.

Perfect. Two little paws grasped the edge of the box, a little, orange, furry head with enormous ears and big round eyes peered over the rim.

Anders' hand flew to his mouth and he screamed, _“LOOK AT ITS EARS!”_ The kitten replied with a loud yowl. Anders and his new cat locked eyes, and he was done for. _“Look at its blue eyes!”_

“This,” Nyla began, “is a hypoallergenic cat, a Devon rex-”

 _“I know what it is!”_ Anders yelled, still unable to come to terms with his kitten on the kitchen table.

“I spent some time with him at Nyla’s place,” Leliana spoke, standing up to kiss his cheek. “It went great. I’m not allergic to him.”

 _“Look at his little fucking PAWS!”_ Anders pressed his palms to his cheeks, ready to cry.

“Yes dear.” Leliana chuckled, “Would you like to hold him?”

 _“Nyla bought me a $600 kitten!”_ He pointed, looking at Leliana.

“I know,” Leliana laughed,“Your screaming is scaring him.” She picked up the kitten and held it close. “Poor little man,” she cooed at the kitten, scratching beneath the kitten’s chin with a gentle finger.

“Leliana is holding my kitty!” Anders gasped, “I love you.”

“Here,” she handed it to him with a chuckle. “Calm down and hold your baby.”

Anders giggled and smooshed the kitten against his cheek, “Oh my god, why is he so soft? He's purring.”

“He’s going to leave me for this kitten, Nyla, you have ruined everything.” Leliana grinned at Anders.

“Could you blame me? Look at him!” After several little kisses on the kitten’s head, Anders set him down on the table and watched him closely. “He looks so healthy! And he’s going to stay healthy and live forever because I’m minutes from graduating veterinary school. Which means I can make kitties live forever.”

“Ohhh _that’s_ what you’re in school for?” Nyla blinked in surprise.

“If you cared at all about me Sketchy, you would have already asked.”

“Could you forgive me if I bought you a pedigree kitten your girlfriend could be around?” Nyla giggled, “Also I got you matching sweaters.”

Anders sobered, realizing he hadn't even thanked her yet, “That's amazing. Hug me!” He ran around the table and squeezed Nyla, “Thank you so much.”

“Zevran helped, he chose the boy for you,” Nyla smiled happily, wrapping her arms around Anders’ waist.

“He’s perfect, bring it in, broseph.” Anders invited Zevran into the hug with a wave of his arm.

“Awww,” Lelina cooed, “Pouncing all over the table! Sir pounce-a-lot.”

With a hearty laugh and gasp, Anders looked at Leliana and spoke, “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm in the mood for fluff and smut so here you go.

The kitchen timer had gone off, informing Zevran ten minutes had gone by. Putting his sketchbook and pencil down on the kitchen table, he made his way around the island to get to the stove.

Braised lamb marinated for three days should be ready to be dropped on fresh tortillas. Nyla picked a good partner to cook for her, having such enthusiasm for Mexican cuisine. Picking up his new skillet, he tossed the meat around with a flick of his wrist; his new skillet cooked everything so evenly, if he had known how awesome just having a fancy skillet could be, he would have bought one years ago.

Zevran still couldn’t believe he lived in this lovely place with a lot of natural lighting. Nyla left all the decorating to him, agreeing enthusiastically with every choice, encouraging him to stop looking at price tags, and even blowing his mind when she said she had never been to Ikea. They didn’t go to Ikea. She gave him a stern talking to, imploring him to get it in his head that he would have the best of everything. He still didn’t quite grasp it, but he was getting there.

Picking up the remote for the apartment-wide sound system, he turned on their playlist for her arrival. Cat bolted away, and Zevran cringed, turning the volume down; this seemed to happen every time Nyla was left home alone. He made a mental note to talk to her about leaving it so high when she turned it off. The door alarm beeped, announcing her entry, because being in your huge place alone with your cat and then being suddenly not alone in your huge place with your cat caused gorgeous men to startle, and painting crises.

“You’re early, amor!” Zevran called out, wiping his hands clean and heading toward the door to greet her.

“Traffic wasn’t so evil today. I woke up late and took the car instead of the train. It didn’t end up being that much faster because the nearest garage was full, I had to park in the garage two blocks away. My back, my legs, my feet are just _killing_ me today. Smells amazing in here!” Putting her shoes in her closet by the door, she stood up to face him and smiled. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

This was a moment he had to draw; the way she looked at him as she came home after a long day of work; drinking him in with bright eyes and a smile, so happy to see him, so pretty. Pulling her in for hugs and kisses, he grabbed her ass, lifted her, and her legs wrapped around his waist. “Bath or food first?”

“Bath.” She smiled running fingers through his hair as he walked toward her bathroom. “You’re going to carry me the whole way there?”

“Mmhm. Then I will come back and plate our food and put the dishes in that plate warmer thing that used to piss me off but now is occurring to me as quite handy.”

“I told you!” Nyla chuckled, “All of these overly extravagant things do have a purpose.”

“Still overly extravagant.” The moment her feet hit the floor, he started her bath. Lots of bubbles, nice and hot, lavender scented salts to soothe her aches. Laying out two plush towels for her, he headed out.

“Come back to me when you’re done?” She asked softly, her hand brushing his arm as he walked away.

Turning around for a quick glance at his half-naked woman, her white button up shirt halfway undone, her tie still around her neck resting along her cleavage; did she realize how fucking sexy she looked? He nodded with a smirk. Fifteen minutes later he headed back, expecting to find her laying back with long bare legs reclined on the edge of the tub, surrounded by ample bubbles with bosom floating… but no. She was making a soap-bubble mohawk to match her beard.

Eyebrows raising with a stifled laugh he asked, “Enjoying your bath, woman-child?”

With a grin and a nod, Nyla pretended to shave her beard with the side of an extended index finger. “I want to show you something deeply personal.”

“Something other than you dressing up in a sudsy beard and shaving it off?”

“Yes,” Nyla laughed, splashing her face with water and then turning down the jets of her tub. “That was planned, so you would laugh as you came in the door. Do you imagine that’s what my bathtime habits are really like?”

“I’ve walked past twice before and peeked in to find you doing this, so yes.”

“Fuck.”

“I was kidding. Busted.” he smiled, sitting on the padded bench next to the tub. “And you can get out the rubber ducks, if you wish, don’t mind me.”

“You little shit, you know about the ducks,” she sighed and rolled her eyes. “I can’t have _any_ secrets around you.”

“Bullshit!” Zevran laughed, reaching a hand in to splash her. “You don’t have ducks.”

“Oh my god!” Nyla cackled covering her face with her hands, “They’re in that drawer! Quit laughing at me.”

Giggling and crawling across the floor, Zevran opened the bottom cabinet drawer, _“Fucking Nyla!”_ After a few moments of lying on his back and clutching his sides in raucous laughter, he reached into the drawer and began tossing them at her. “How many of these fucking things do you have?” He asked, trying to catch his breath as he reached in the drawer and retrieved duck after colorful duck.

“A drawer full of various sizes and colors.” She grinned, dodging duck after colorful duck, watching his teary eyes, mouth open in breathless, hysterical laughter; she wished she could draw. “I thought they would be fun so I bought one of each from… everywhere and… lord jesus calm down,” she chuckled, catching a duck coming straight toward her face. “This is not the deeply personal stuff I intended to share.”

“Fucking ducks!” Taking a deep breath, he pulled out the drawer completely and dumped them all in her bath.

“I usually just grab like five at random but okay,” she giggled leaning back to watch them all bob on the water. “This is way better.”

“In a normal size bath there would be just enough room to fit them all.” Taking his place on the bench by the tub, he wiped his eyes, caught his breath and watched her relax and nudge the ducks around with her toes. He could see the appeal, watching the gentle bob of colors on the water. “That is relaxing.”

“Mmm hmm… okay. Inside the bench you’re sitting on is a little black journal. Will you get it and open it to the fourth page?”

“Ooh showing me your secrets.” He did as she asked, flipping open the bench, finding the journal easily amongst various books, her kindle, and a few more ducks which he threw at her with a chuckle. “Fucking Nyla and her ducks,” he smiled and opened the journal to the fourth page.

“It’s a poem… or more just… some prose I wrote the night you came to my work.” Blushing, she looked up at him. “It’s called Muse. Because… I suddenly had so much to say. You can read it.”

 

_Muse_

_Primordial attunement._  
_I request your nakedness_  
_Bare yourself, my muse, disrobe_  
_Disclose_  
  
_Bare yourself to me - that in your nakedness, I am unclothed_  
_There has never been a time without breath and beating heart - in your presence the experience unfolds_  
_from conscious incompetence to conscious competence I unfold - I can see the face of another_  
_but not my own_  
  
_The dance between personal and transpersonal_  
_Where language stops being a structure of sound: primordial attunement_  
_I request your nakedness - that in your nakedness, I am unclothed_

 

“This is lovely,” he spoke softly. “You really really wanted to bang.”

With an extended _pffft_ followed by a long bout of laughter she laid back, sighed and spoke dreamily, “Yes. I wanted to _know_ you. I craved it. It was frustrating and beautiful.”

“Mmm… same. What is this… conscious incompetence to conscious competence?”

“The whole thing is pretty much me reiterating the same concept over and over. Show me more you, so I can see more of me. I learn more of myself, and then, you learn more about yourself, and it’s... this cycle. Where we just… unfold, and unfold. Learning, sharing, growing… and then I just feel like I’m going to... fucking explode with feelings.”

“But you wrote this after the second time we had ever seen each other.”

“I know!” She giggled, stirring her ducks with a foot. “That poem pissed me off with how unreasonable it was, believe me. I think it was a... systematic response to my recognizing potential.”

“Ahh… I saw this potential as well. I fought a lot of feelings, drew you over and over as an outlet, and it seemed the feelings got bigger as I tried to let them out. It was kind of… total hell. Anders said I was trying to meet the need of having you near. I considered using your phone number after that, but it all seemed like such over-inflated bullshit, I couldn’t.”

“Yes! Exactly! That’s why I hated the poem so much. It seemed so stupid I would feel that way after seeing someone twice. I figured it was a crush that would go away.” Looking up at him she smiled, “It didn’t.”

“Okay,” Zevran spoke pulling his shirt off. “I need to have sex with you in this tub right now.”

“Undress faster,” she giggled, watching him stumble out of his pants and then into the water, her eyes on his toned belly, and hard cock. With a sweep of her leg, she made a fruitless attempt to move the ducks out of his path.

“I almost regret the ducks,” he laughed, swishing them away, crawling toward her to settle between her legs; his mouth on hers, a hand on her breast, the other teasing her with gentle touches along her thighs. It was about time they had sex in her bath. Five rooms down, three to go, not including the roof.

Lots of kisses, touches of varying degrees of intensity, he chuckled happily when she rolled her hips in needy anticipation.

“What do you want, mi amore,” he purred against her mouth, his fingers barely brushing along her heat as she gasped, her hips writhing in anticipation of his touch.

“Make me come,” her fingers dug into his forearms, his mouth on her neck, kissing and nibbling.

“How do you want it?” He spoke softly, kissing along her jaw, his palm rested on her folds.

Belly tightening at teasing sensations, enough to stimulate, but not quite enough, she pulled his mouth toward hers, and he resisted.

“Want me to kiss you?” She nodded and met his gaze, with cheeks and shoulders flushed, hands wandering his body. “What else?” He purred, moving his hand a little.

Smiling at his lusty stare, she spoke softly, “If I’m going to be vocal, so will you.”

“Yes,” he replied, his cock throbbed at the sound of her sultry demand. “Tell me how you want it.”

“Fuck me,” she whispered, pulling him toward her with long legs and hands on his shoulders. “Fuck me until I come for you.”

Having a keen appreciation for hearing her talk dirty, she exceeded his expectation. He allowed himself to be pulled, guided into her, and as per their agreement, he let out a lusty groan. “Fuck,” he spoke before meeting her lips with his. With generous undulations of his hips, she moaned, legs tight around him. Her hands wandered his damp hair, and then down his back to grab his ass, prompting him to move faster.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, her head tossed back. “Like that, sweetie. Yes, fuck me like that. Oh my god.”

“Getting close, amor?” Zevran rested his hands on the tub and slowed, just to tease her a little more.

On the cusp of orgasm, in Nyla’s automatic response for more, her feet hit the tub floor, and she lifted her body to meet his. It surprised and thrilled him as he watched her mouth fall open and brow furrow with her building orgasm. “Oh fuck,” she gasped again as she moved her body to hit the perfect spots. “Like that.”

Zevran moaned, remained still, basking in the way she so brazenly took him. “So good, amor, how you feel around my cock.” He groaned again, clenching his jaw as her moans built in intensity.

 _“Yes!”_ She spoke several times, feeling the slow build of completion as her body met his with force.

Feeling her grow tight around him, suppressing his own orgasm he pressed his body hard against hers, making her tremble and cry out as he pushed deep into her.

“Mmm… nice. Mi amor comes for me so hard,” he purred, kissing her jaw as she caught her breath. After a few minutes of shared affectionate kisses and caresses, he withdrew from her, sitting next to her and letting his head fall back with a satisfied sigh.

Nyla giggled, curling against him, “I really needed that.”

“I could tell,” he smiled, pressing kisses on her forehead and an arm around her.

“I wasn’t expecting you to stop,” she kissed his chest, “did you want something else? To fuck my mouth, perhaps?” She smiled, gently nipping him.

“Mmm… no. I want to stay aroused,” he groaned as her fist wrapped around his cock. “Waiting for release until I can’t fucking stand it anymore is fun for me.”

“Really?” Nyla chuckled, letting go of his dick and running her hand along his stomach, wrapping her arm around his waist to cuddle him close. “That would really piss me off.”

“I think, perhaps this is a physiology thing. You tend to feel more awake after orgasm, whereas, I often times would favor a nap.”

“Yes,” she laughed, “I have noticed you do get very sedate, and I feel like hunting wild boar.”

“Hunting…” he chuckled, pulling her tight against him. “Cute. Let’s go eat, hmm?”

 

*******

 

“Amazing, sweetie.” Nyla spoke after their meal, leaning back comfortably in her chair at the kitchen table. “So good. I don’t know how you get so much flavor in food. It boggles the mind.”

“It comes out better when I cook for you, it seems,” he let out a long satisfied sigh, staring at her robe slightly open, teasing him with the sight of her perfect cleavage. “Dessert?”

“You spoil me,” she smiled, feeling possibly far more loved than seemed reasonable. “Yes, please.”

“Good,” he stood and went to the fridge. “You said the other day you had a craving for strawberry shortcake. I hope this is still true.”

“It absolutely is,” she grinned, picking up the remote and turning down the music so she could hear him a little better. “This is the stuff that makes me feel loved.”

“Mmm? What do you mean, amor? That I hear what you say?” He glanced back at her curiously for a moment before returning to his task of slicing fresh strawberries.

“That, and you actually want me to have what I want. So much that you would find a way for me to have it, and then provide it. I feel like you want to see me happy, therefore you must really love me.”

“Then my intent,” he turned around and put two plates on the table, “is coming through loud and clear.”

“I also feel loved when you smile at me like that,” she bit her lip and grinned.

“Same,” he turned to the fridge and grabbed the whipped cream, wondering if other people had the pleasure of being so in love and so utterly romantic about it; his mothers certainly weren’t like this. Hoping someone would be of a mind to stop them if they actually tried to get on a tandem bicycle, he handed Nyla the spray can of whipped cream. “I thought I would let you do this part, so you can have as much or as little as you like.”

“I love this stuff,” she sprayed some along her finger, and put it in her mouth with a breathy moan, her eyes flicking up to meet his as her long finger slid slowly out of her mouth.

“I’m going to draw that,” he watched her with a smirk. “With your finger in your mouth, eyes on me, bosom exposed.”

Blushing, she bit her lip and leaned toward him, exposing herself more. “Yeah?”

“Also you in a tub full of ducks.” Holding out his hand he asked softly, “May I?” Taking the whipped cream, he stood, shaking the can and leaning back against the kitchen counter, letting his robe fall open. Nyla’s eyes followed his hand as he drew a line of whipped cream from his navel, all the way down to the tip of his hardening cock.

“Zevran for dessert?” She purred playfully. He nodded with his cocky smirk, and she dropped to her knees and moved toward him, untying her robe, letting it fall open, slide over her shoulders and off of her.

As her tongue flicked along his belly, she looked up at him with big dark eyes, her bosom brushing against his thighs, and Zevran imagined if he could live the rest of his life consistently oversexed by this woman, he would die a happy man.

With broad strokes of her tongue, she licked him clean, twirling the tip of her tongue around his cock and he moaned when she took him into her mouth, gently tugged on his balls; she was running for the finish line.

“Easy,” he hissed, his hands landing on the sides of her head. She simply knew his body too well. This was his favorite part of having one lover for so long; the sex just kept getting better. “Stop,” he chuckled with a groan, “I want to play some more.”

“Mmm!” She pulled her mouth away with lips dragging and held him in her fist. “Yeah?” She licked the base of his cock between words, “What did you have in mind?”

Picking up the can of whipped cream he thought for a few moments. “Lay on your back.”

“I don’t want food in or near my-”

“Understood, amor,” he chuckled, dropping to his knees with her, letting his robe slip off. Kissing her mouth, the sweetness of whipped cream lingered on her tongue, and he guided her to lay back. Mutual giggling ensued, as he sat on his knees between her legs, shaking a can of whipped cream and biting his lip, “Where to begin.”

“Here,” she smiled, tilting her head back and pointing at a particularly sensitive place on her neck. .

“Straight for the hot-spots as always, amor?” He spoke playfully, pointing the nozzle at the place where her finger once rested. “Shit,” he laughed, having held the nozzle with too much pressure, what was meant to be a small dab was a large swirl.

“It's cold!”

“Too much, going to have to distribute,” he ran gentle fingers through it, drawing lines down her body, over her breasts, leaving generous amounts on her nipples, around her navel.

“Stay away from my waist I can’t-” she squealed and tried to recoil from his touch, “I’m serious, don’t-” she squealed again, trying to wiggle away from his mouth on her most ticklish places. “I am withholding love from this point forward!”

“A warning first?” He dragged his tongue along her skin following the thin line to her navel. “You must love me.”

“Cocky little shit,” she giggled, moaned as his mouth lavished attention on her more sensitive places. “Oh that feels nice.” She hummed contentedly, tried to touch him but he grabbed her hands, pinning them on either side of her head.

Suckling on her neck, her hips wiggled, a telltale sign of her building arousal which always stoked his. Saving his favorite place for last, he gently nibbled on her firm nipple with a lusty moan. Getting lost in his task of licking her breasts clean, her hands wandered his back with gentle caresses and satisfied sighs. He basked in her obvious enjoyment, considering this to be one of the best ideas he ever had.

Gentle ministrations evolved to kissing, kissing became enthusiastic making out and two sticky bodies writhing together, trying to dominate each other across the kitchen floor. Zevran’s desire was at a fever pitch with unfair orders to not get whipped cream in or around anyone’s vagina.

Zevran lifted her up from the floor with a groan, her legs wrapped around him. With frantic sloppy kisses, Zevran carried her through the kitchen, the livingroom, through their bedroom and into their shared standing shower. Both of them reached for and turned on their respective shower heads. Initially blasted with cold water they cursed and shouted with laughter, clinging to each other until the water warmed. They resumed frantic kisses. With one hand beneath Nyla’s ass holding her up, the other pawed her breast and wiped her with warm water, cleaning them of sticky, whipped cream residue.

Reaching down, Nyla stroked his cock, and his growl made her skin tingle all over. Nothing had ever been so fun and sexy as a ravenous, desperate Zevran.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Nyla pulled away from kisses to speak and Zevran immediately went for her neck. “You wanna fuck me, honey?” She spoke breathlessly.

He pushed her against the wall and draped her legs over his arms. Several teasing statements came to his mind, but with his skin on fire, his heart beating hard, his cock aching, he could only slam himself into her with a relieved moan.

“Oh shit,” she moaned, panting and powerless to do anything but wander his body with her palms as he pounded her against the tile wall. “Oh fuck, right there,” she squealed, her fingers digging into his back. The sound of their bodies meeting echoed around them as she came again, and he could feel the telltale warmth of her moisture as she sprayed him in the abdomen; typical, in their history, the more orgasms he gave her, the bigger they became.

“Fuck!” He bit the soft, pink skin of her shoulder and withdrew from her, staving off another orgasm.

“Wow,” Nyla panted, her head falling back to thump against the tile. “Holy fuck.” He still hadn’t come yet, and if he took his game so seriously, so would she. “Dry off and get on the bed, Zevran.”

Disoriented with arousal, Zevran toweled off quickly alongside her. Her demand had been spoken in such a way that he wondered what she had in store for him, and his excitement intensified.

“Lay on the bed on your back. I want to play too,” Nyla purred, pulling him by the hand, biting her lip and meeting his eyes. “Can I play too?”

 _I need to draw this…_ he nodded and smiled, feeling safe in that she would ask and not assume; just as he had done for her in the past. “Love you, amor,” he spoke softly as he laid on his back.

“I love you, honey.” Nyla stroked his legs from knee to groin over and over. “Want me to suck your cock and not let you come?” She asked gently, and he nodded, his belly twitching as her palm continued its journey up his inner thigh and along his dick.

Nyla had never said no to Zevran, and she wondered what it would be like. Taking him in her mouth, she worked her tongue around him; a move that drove him crazy, but never got him off. His hips writhed, hands pet her head, gripped her shoulders, and his palms hit the headboard when she she wrapped a hand around him, working him with hand and mouth in a slow up and down motion.

“Oh _fuck,_ ” he whimpered, back arching when she tugged on his balls. On the cusp of his orgasm, Nyla stilled, squeezing the base of his cock and his dick throbbed and twitched in her hand. He groaned desperately, wanting to ask her where she learned that, but all he could manage was a whispered “Touch me.”

Running her hands along his calves and thighs, he writhed, his head tossed back, she straddled him, his erection throbbing and pressed against her heat. She watched in awe as his mouth fell open with a whimpered moan, and she lovingly caressing his arms. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, and his hand met her thigh, his belly fluttered. _He liked that,_ she smiled, licked her lips, her hands wandered up to caress his face and neck. “My beautiful boyfriend. I love you. You make me so happy. You’re so sexy.”

Overwhelmed by lusty tension, her praise relaxed him and made him feel so safe in his vulnerability, every inch of him became an erogenous zone, her hands gliding along his chest felt sweeter than an orgasm.

“Want me to ride you and stop you from coming?” She spoke sweetly, her hands still wandering, pressing kisses to his neck and jaw.

“No,” he managed, her thigh feeling so smooth and soft beneath his palm. “I want to come.” Kisses felt so sweet and perfect as their lips met, and she rolled her hips to take him slowly into herself.

Slowly at first, she rolled her hips, kissing and caressing him, hearing so many sounds from him when there were usually so few. “I love you,” she whispered against his mouth, and she sat up, bracing herself with palms flat on his chest. “Want me to go faster?” She asked gently, and his eyes finally opened to look at her. She smiled, caressing his cheek, “I love you, sweetness. Tell me what you need.”

“Faster,” he whispered, his hands on her thighs and hips moving of their own accord. So needy, so vulnerable, his heart full to bursting, he couldn’t take anymore, he trusted her so fully to be with him as his game ended, and it intensified his experience, his neediness. “Yes, like that. Don’t stop.” Zevran gasped, grabbing the smooth wooden spindles of the headboard he chose for them. “Don’t stop.”

They moaned loud together, Nyla growing tighter around him as she kept moving. His head bumped up against the headboard turning him on to an unreasonable degree. His eyes closed, and she watched him in adoration and lust, his knuckles white from gripping the headboard, brow furrowed and jaw clenched.

"Don't stop." He could feel it happening, tormenting him, he wanted it so badly, she kept moving, every downward thrust of her hips punctuated by his loud moans.

“Zev,” she panted, her hands resting on his chest as she rocked her hips, riding him hard toward her own orgasm, “Zev, come with me. I’m coming. Oh fuck,” she spoke breathlessly, sitting upright and grabbing her breasts. _“Oh fuck!”_

So tight around him, when she sat up it hit the spot and he shouted with her, arching his back, pressing deeper into her.

 _“Fuck! Nyla!”_ He shouted, his hips writhing, oversensitivity making him hiss and moan as he kept coming, his cock throbbing deliciously, and even as she collapsed upon him with a sweet whimper, he trembled beneath her for several minutes. She pet him, kissed him, cooed sweetness in her soft, feminine voice until he grew still.

“Are you okay, baby?” She spoke softly, laying beside him, cradling his jaw in her hand. Zevran’s hands rested loosely around the spindles of their headboard, panting with his eyes closed, and nodded, waiting for his head to clear. Flexing his stiff fingers, he pulled his arms tight against himself and rolled onto his side, and his love was there to hold him in her arms; exactly what he needed, as he felt like laughing and crying simultaneously.

“Okay, amor,” he murmured sleepily, “Just need a moment.”

“Everything’s fine,” she whispered, sweeping his hair back with gentle fingertips, kissing his sweat-dampened forehead. “Just lay here and be perfect in my arms.”

“You spoil me in all the ways,” he spoke softly, reminiscing on their encounter, and how fully he surrendered to her.

“Same.” She kissed him, brushing his hair with her fingers. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go get something.” she kissed him again, and his arms wrapped around her.

“Stay.” He pulled her close, rested his cheek in her bosom, and drifted off to sleep in her arms.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <3 And they all go shoe shopping for Nymeria_Snow <3 _"Somehow I would like the four of the go shopping for shoes... I have a shoe obsession, hi Leli!"_

For once, Zevran woke beneath the blankets; she must have been awake already and covered him on her way out. Slipping on his plush sweatpants and sweatshirt, he headed toward the kitchen to find her. And coffee; he really needed some coffee. He yawned and stretched, running fingers through his hair.

10am? She said she would wake him before she left so they could have breakfast together. She hadn’t, and he felt sad and disgruntled; they wouldn’t get to see each other until late that night. Opening the fridge, he made sure she at least took her lunch with her. _Why does she still have this fucking job anyway?_

Reluctantly admitting he hated waking without her, he poured his coffee, sat at their table by the window in their dining room, and Cat immediately flopped onto his lap. Basking in the morning sun, it took him a moment of absent table-staring to notice an envelope with a bow on it. _Oh shit, what now?_ He opened the envelope with an excited smile; it contained two airline tickets. She must have planned a trip for his paid time off coming up next month, _how cool!_ First class, _nice!_ He had never flown first class before.

His coffee cup, which had been on a journey to his mouth, slipped from his fingers and hit the table. Coffee on the tickets, his sketchbook, the cat…

_Mexico City._

“Fuck! What the _fuck,_ Nyla!” He ran frantic to grab kitchen towels, the cat bitching in his arms. Wiping Cat off with a damp towel, he made quick work of the rest, his sketchbook wet around the edges; it ached a little, but nothing completely ruined. Dropping wet tickets in the sink, he had a strong urge to cram them down the garbage disposal.

With jaw clenched, lips pursed and trembling hands, he strode to the bedroom and grabbed his phone.

 

 _Nyla._ _  
_ _Nyla._

_Goodmorning pumpkin!_

_What the absolute fuck???_

_Ooh… absolute fuck. This sounds serious!_

_I’m pissed._

_Oh._

_Yes. Oh._  
_How fuckign dare you_

 _Wow_  
_Alright_  
_I see. Take a deep breath._

_I just… do not even know how to comprehend how you thought this would be a good idea_

_You said you wanted to see your parents._

_You never asked if I am ready! I am simply drinking my coffee and suddenly ‘hi Zev you are going to Mexico in two weeks.’ Nobody here to, I don’t know, DISCUSS IT WITH ME PERHAPS??? Now I sit here in a mess, have to work in three hours._

_Hold on, Zev. Slow down. I’m coming home._

_GOOD!_

_Just breathe, honey._

 

“Cass, I gotta run,” Nyla went toward the break room to grab her things.

“I need you to stay.” Cassandra spoke bluntly, following her. “You will be reducing us to one server for lunch.”  
  
“She’ll appreciate the tips.” Nyla pulled on her coat, slipped her purse over her shoulder, and grabbed her lunchbox. “Give her my tips from breakfast for her trouble.”

“You know it’s not that simple.”

“I hate to do it, I really do, but I have a family emergency.”

“I need to hear a little more than that to legitimize keeping an employee who keeps calling off, showing up late and leaving early.”

“Shit.” The threat of termination gave Nyla pause. “I don’t want to be fired.”

“Then I need to know I can rely on you. Do you want to be on the schedule for fewer days? Do you want to be on it at all?”

With heart aching, she smiled at Cassandra, a woman she respected and admired, and would miss. _“_ Can I… get back to you on that?”

“Yes. Consider this a final warning. I don’t mean to be a hardass, I do like working with you, but I need to run this business.”

“I understand,” Nyla nodded, biting her lips. “Okay I’m going to go now.”

Cassandra sighed and rested her hands on her hips. “Why are you leaving?”  
  
“Zevran is deeply upset.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she shouldn’t have bothered.

“Zevran is…” Cassandra looked at her incredulously and made a disgusted noise. “He can’t just wait another seven hours?”

“I don’t want him to. He shouldn’t have to.” Tilting her head at Cassandra, imploring her to understand she dug herself in a little deeper, “He’s a _priority,_ Cassandra. I’ll always choose him.”

“Get the fuck out of my restaurant before you give me cavities,” she chuckled swatting her with a hand towel. “And for fuck’s sake, get your shit together and tell me what you want to do.”

“Okay, _okay!_ Jesus christ.”

 

*******

 

“Zev?” Nyla called out, kicking her shoes off and hastily dropping everything on the floor.

“Dining room.”

“Shit,” she whispered; such a rarity, to see him so angry. “Are you calmer now?” She asked as she went toward the next room.

“A fair bit.” He sighed, running a hand over his hair. “I do not like being angry at you, Nyla, and I am very angry right now.”

“Because you wanted to discuss it first,” she sat next to him.

 _“Yes!_ You got us this extravagant gift, _how,_ exactly, did you not know it needed to be discussed first? You don't know if I am ready to do this.”

“That’s true, I don’t know if you’re ready. I assumed.” After a few moments of silence she added, “I wish I had not assumed.”

“Nyla, I don’t know if it is even safe to be there. And _you_ are coming too?”

“Safe how?”

“Nyla, you _know_ why I left. How do I know… I mean… why the fuck can’t we bring them here?”

“Slow down, honey. Rosa is afraid to fly. I discussed this with them.”

“You told _them_ but not _me?_ ” he stammered, scrubbing his face with his palms. “What if they see me? What if they recognize me? Nyla, what if it’s _you_ this time?”

“What do you mean? Who?” Nyla spoke patently, running a hand along his arm. Watching him closely, he sighed deeply again, in through his nose, out through his mouth; a practice he partook in the most stressful of times. Nyla understood more as he scrubbed his face with his hands for a second time. “Oh, ohhh shit, Zevran. Honey, come here.” She wrapped her arms around him, and he remained stiff in her arms.

“I do not want a _hug!_ Hugs won’t fix this!”

“They’ll help, come on.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “We don’t have to go, sugar.”

“How does that even work,” he grumbled at the woman clinging to him despite his no. “You buy expensive things without giving me a chance to say no, cornering me into a trip I am _not at all_ prepared to make-”

“We cancel the flight, and don’t go. Look at me.” She stopped her awkward side hug, keeping a hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to make you feel forced into this. It’s a gift, and if you don’t want it, I’ll take care of it.”

“First class tickets _are expensive,_ ” he sighed, furrowing his brow at her, “How _can_ I say no? I cannot fathom how we could afford to buy first class tickets out of the country and then waste them. Even refunding tickets will yield a great deal of loss.”

“Listen. Okay, if we bought our own island, we could call that expensive. Understand?”

“No.”

“Zevran, I’m rich. You’re rich with me.” She stroked his back. “The flight cost us like, four grand. The suite was a bit more, because it’s on the water… and I got a really big one so your moms can stay with us if they like. The whole trip, I estimated, including room service and shopping, will only cost around twelve grand.”

 _“Only cost-_ Nyla, what the absolute _fuck?_ ”

“Alright, okay.” She took his hand and sighed, wondering how she could take the chaos of their conversation, and turn it into something that made sense. “We need hammock time. Go wait for me with your coffee on the roof, I’m going to change out of my work clothes.”

“And why do you have this fucking job anyway if we don’t need money?” The more he spoke with her, the less shit made sense. “Why the hell do we live like this and not donate to people who need it? We can afford to waste more money than some see in a year on a trip nobody fucking asked for-”

“Okay, Zev, stop.” Nyla spoke sternly. “I understand we have a lot to talk about, and things are bottlenecking right now. I love you, we’re going to address _all_ of these things in a few minutes. I need to go change, I need to breathe and relax by myself as I do this, and I will meet you on the roof.”

Zevran headed upstairs with his coffee and a frustrated pout. In open air, his head began to clear, his heart ached a little less, and he realized what a needy little shit he had been; she had come home from work just to make sure he would be okay. _I am a spoiled man._ Sitting on the hammock, he rocked himself gently, breathed deeply, sipped on his coffee, and looked out on the city. Several minutes of alone time, and he felt calm, and also felt like an ungrateful prick.

“Hey sweetie,” she spoke softly, sitting next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He rested his arm over her shoulders and she smiled, “You’re feeling a little better.”

Nodding, he pulled her closer. “I was hard on you, amor. How do you have so much patience for my bullshit?”

“Mmm. It's alright,” she leaned into his touch. “You were upset, and getting more upset. You respected my request for you to stop, that's what matters. Sometimes just taking a little space helps.”

“I will consider this before going off on you in the future,” he offered a small, crooked smile.

“A lot came up,” Nyla began slowly. “Any financial loss from not going to Mexico is not a big deal. I know this still stresses you out, so let’s pretend it’s not a thing for now, and talk about why you don’t want to go.”

“No… _how_ is losing twelvish thousand dollars _not_ a big deal? _”_ Zevran spoke incredulously, “I don’t understand how having too much money means it is okay to waste.”

“Okay, imagine on your income alone, you buy a gallon of milk. You leave that gallon of milk in the fridge, and it spoils. You’ve lost like, four bucks. Us not going on this trip would be like that.”

“But I could not have done anything significantly helpful with that four dollars.”

“I do significant things with my money all the time! I have someone managing my money, and donating money for me. I like donating to Amnesty International. I’m a fan of Habitats for Humanity. Zevran, I’m a person with too much money, it keeps accumulating, it’s managed by someone I pay… that person is managed by Fergus, and I _do_ check on it, out of curiosity now and then.”  

“Rich people used to disgust me, Nyla, with their tendency to live too extravagantly and not consider those in need.”

“Ouch, jesus christ.” Nyla furrowed her brow at him. “First of all, if you ever saw where I grew up, you would realize we don’t live that extravagantly. And we do donate to a _lot_ of places. But not the Salvation Army, because of their anti-gay sentiments.”

“Oh.” Zevran chuckled, his heart warming, “You really have thought about this.”

“Yes! Of course! Do you think I don’t understand that I’m privileged as fuck?”

“I honestly had no idea whether or not you noticed.” He sipped his coffee, “We have not talked about this.”

“I donate, I give my tips to people sitting on street corners with cups in their hands. I have to be careful because anyone could see me do this on the regular and I could get hurt.” She sighed, looking at the ground. “I keep my job because I don’t know how else to contribute to society. I used to know where I fit in, back before I lost my parents. I still feel like I belong nowhere. Like, what am I doing with my life, besides waitressing and making sure my boyfriend is happy?”

“Nyla, will you tell me about what made your parents so rich, that even our grandchildren’s grandchildren will be so well off?”

“Children! You wish,” Nyla chuckled, and he didn’t. _Damn._ “My father owned an oil company. My brother was a lawyer, because it interests him, now he does our dead dad's business stuff. My mother was a psychiatrist with her own practice. She did sliding scale, so anyone could go to her office. It was beautiful. I was going to work for her. I think she was setting me up to take over, and I wanted to.”

“Not anymore?”

“No, I’m not feeling it anymore,” Nyla shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.”

“Time, amor. Give yourself the understanding and patience you offer everyone else.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, relaxing a little, just knowing he understood her. “Thanks honey. I’ll show you my finances junk if you want to see it, so you know what funds go where and such.”

“Jesus fucking christ, _oil?_ No wonder you are so loaded. I would like to see where you donate, and the numbers. I believe knowing the particulars would help me relax around the whole thing.” Putting down his cup of coffee, he laid back on the hammock. “Come here amor, and don’t flip us this time. I need to learn coping mechanisms for being wealthy.”

“You’ll get there, pumpkin. We still haven’t talked about the trip,” she laid between his legs, her hands on his chest, her chin resting on them. “You had a lot of concerns. Start from the top.”

“I may be recognized by… undesirables.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” she smiled, his fingers tucking her hair behind her ears. “I doubt anyone you hung out with is around anymore. Not with living that kind of lifestyle. After eight years, they’re probably dead or in a nursing home coping with permanent injuries.”

“You might get hurt just being near me. Even the remote possibility of this makes the whole thing not worth it.”

“Think about it rationally, Zev. We arrive at an airport full of people. We take a cab to a pricey hotel none of them could even afford to walk into. We go to the beach, populated shopping areas, we escort your mommies around and see some tourist sights because I love that kind of shit. The odds of seeing someone you used to know are _so_ small. And on top of the odds of even laying eyes on you, they would have to _recognize_ you. I promise, if I get my head blown off in Mexico, it won’t be from-”

“Shhh.” He pressed fingers over her lips and whispered, “Don’t fucking say it like that.”

“Sorry. That was inconsiderate of me,” she stroked his arms, resting her cheek on his chest. “We’re safe.”

Relaxing beneath her soft stare, he stroked her cheeks, her hair, her beautiful and intact head, “Amor, I think I’m not ready.”

“Okay honey, I’ll cancel the trip.”

“You really have no qualms with this,” he smiled, relaxing more and more, hanging one leg off the hammock and swinging them gently.

“No! Let’s plan something else. Or just stay here. What do you think?”

“Nyla is so smiley,” he looked at the pale blue sky, felt the cool air, her weight on him, the love in her touch. “I wish to go to Mexico.”

“Okay,” Nyla spoke patiently. “Done.”

“No,” he looked at her and her beautifully intact head. “Nevermind, it’s not safe.”

“Take your time.”

“What if I went without you?” he spoke absently, and Nyla whined, kicking her legs a little. “Okay, Nyla wishes to go.”

“Do you think your moms would adopt me too?” Nyla grinned, wrapping her arms around him, tucking them beneath his body.

“Mamá says you are far too smiley not to keep.” He smiled at hearing her gleeful laughter. “Amor, I don’t feel like going to work today. It has been such a long week and I feel fucking… worn.”

“Call off and go shoe shopping with me. I’ll recruit everyone. Emergency shoe shopping.”

 

*******

 

“Ooh.” Zevran picked up a pair of high-top canvas shoes covered in a colorful butterfly print. “Nyla,” he turned around, but she was gone. _Probably looking at shoes her own size,_ he shrugged, and sat on the bench. It fit nicely, and he laced it up, stood to look in the mirror. _Nice!_ He put on the other shoe. _Fucking. Yes. Perfect._ “Amor, come look!”

“I’ll be right there, pumpkin!”

Leliana sat next to him with several shoe boxes in her arms. “I found so many nice things to try on. _Fuck off, Anders,_ take those off, _NOW!”_

“Wow.” Zevran chuckled, “Damn, Leli being a little harsh- actually yes Anders what the fuck is wrong with you, take those off.”  

“Have you ever tried these? They feel great! They have a fur lining-”

“Off.” Leliana demanded, “I will not have crocs under my roof.”

“Who dare try on crocs?” Nyla called out, moonwalking to the isle they had regrouped, abruptly stopping as she located her friends. “Baby, look what I found- oh my god, Anders. I knew it was you.”  
  
“They’re fluffy on the inside. Leliana won’t let me keep them.”

“No, I won’t. Not even if you pout. Zevla, you can’t buy matching shoes. It’s like, a rule.”

“Oh my god,” Nyla cackled, looking at her feet, and then Zevran’s. _“How dare you_ look precious in those. They’re cuter on him. Oh my god.” She stormed away, shoulders slumped and arms flopping in mock tantrum. She stopped in front of the mirror for a few moments, and moonwalked back to them. “I was wrong. I need these.”

“Zevran also needs these.” Looking at his feet he wiggled his toes to make sure they fit; the shoes made him so happy he didn’t want to take them off, and the $200 price tag did not phase him. “I am wearing them out of the store.”

“Anders, after you _take those off,”_ Leliana began, “Will you please buckle these? It still hurts to reach.”

“Of course, dear.”

“Is that all you’re getting, Zev?” Nyla bounced a little to the music playing.

“I did not find anything else,” he shrugged, sitting on the floor to watch Leliana coo over a thousand shoes. His girlfriend moonwalked away.

“Did you try the men’s section?” Leliana asked, tilting her head and moving her foot around.

“Men’s shoes are all the same,” he shrugged, until Nyla moonwalked back to him with a Gucci box in her hand. “Ooh what did amor find?”

“Black leather high-tops with tasteful gold embellishments.” She smiled, knelt by his feet and began unlacing his butterfly shoes. “They’re very you.”

That they could afford Gucci shoes was _disgusting,_ however, “Damn, these are nice,” he stood in front of a mirror and raised his pant legs a little. _“Ugh_ they go perfect with everything. Why are they so comfortable? I need to go dancing in them. What the fuck?”

“You get what you pay for,” Nyla chuckled, grinning and giddy and biting her lip. “They’re yours.”

“I still want to wear the butterflies,” Zevran smiled, pulling the shoes off.

“Of course, darling, whatever you want,” she moonwalked away from them again. “Back in a minute.”

“Why is she moonwalking everywhere?” Leliana chuckled.

Zevran shrugged, “Strengthening her ankles for bachata.” His shoulders slumped, hearing the next song begin. “Oh, shit. Shopping ruined. Good mood gone. Girlfriend broken.”

“What?” Anders chuckled, looking up from where he was buckling a strap around Leliana’s delicate ankle.

“Music just… does things to her. She was dancing to this song that time she saw me and Isabela-” he cut himself off as she came walking toward him with a soft and sad stare; distinctly different from the angry frown of last time. “Preciosa,” he spoke softly as she sat on the floor between his legs and let him curl his arms around her. “Te amo,” he whispered, and she looked up to offer up a small smile. “Do you wish to go home, mi amor?” He stroked her hair, relieved she would come to him with this softness, instead of her ire.

“I’m not sure yet.” Nyla vaguely felt the ache of abandonment, the jealousy, the humiliation; her preference by far was to continue having fun. Meeting his eyes, she whispered, “Do you love me?” Nyla smiled at his enthusiastic nod. “Am I the prettiest?”

“By far,” he whispered, chuckling at the innocence and sweetness of her game.

“Am I your favorite?”

“Mm hm.”

“I believe you,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. Hopping up she felt refreshed, invigorated, and ready to moonwalk. “Be right back.”

“You both disgust me,” Anders held Leliana’s hand to assist her to standing.

“She just wants reassurance of my continued devotion,” he spoke with a shrug. “I like it.”

Anders let out a low whistle. “Yes. Sexy legs, Leliana. Yes. I like those.”

“Very sexy, Leli. Should wear them for Anders and nothing else.” Zevran enunciated with a nod, “While cooking.”

“I concur!” Nyla moonwalked to Zevran with another box.

“The moonwalking is driving me crazy, Nyla.” Leliana chuckled. “You’re going to knock someone over.”

“I am strengthening my calves and ankles,” she argued, spinning on her heels and hopping onto her toes with arms in the air. “For bachata.”

“Lies!” Leliana hissed with a pointed finger. “Anyone who can moonwalk like that already has strong calves and ankles.”

“Do you have _any_ idea how tired my ankles are right now?” Nyla quirked an eyebrow at Leliana, held up her middle finger and moonwalked away from her. “Don’t judge me until you have bachata’d in high heels. Try on those shoes, baby.”

Zevran snorted and laughed as she rounded the corner, pulling the lid off of a box containing some okay-looking leather boots. “I love that woman-child.”

“You’re both disgusting.” Anders sighed, helping Leliana into a pair of strappy high heels.

“We are. Promise me, Anders, if we get on a tandem bicycle you will end us.”

“What?” Nyla glided in with shoes in her arms. “Tandem bicycle? I’m so down.”

Zevran pursed his lips. Her excitement brought him excitement, and he was already good to go. “God dammit.”

“They have heelys in my size, and I am getting some.” Nyla dropped her armload of shoes on the floor and glided away, her face buried in her elbow, and one arm extended out behind her.

“Did… did she just dab?” Anders chuckled.

“She did the dab.” Leliana sighed. “Someone needs to tell her the dab is over, as well as the moonwalk.”

“I do not think she cares.” Zevran stood up and looked at the calf high boots. “Let her moonwalk and dab if she wants to, Leli, or I will ask her to do the robot right here.”

Anders mumbled with a smile, “That would be fun.”

“For her,” Leliana interjected. “She’s going to get us in trouble if she doesn’t start behaving like an adult.”

“You would be surprised what these fancy places put up with when they know you have money,” Zevran shrugged.

“Security just asked me to please calm down.” Nyla pouted, sitting on the bench.

“What were you doing, amor?”

“I was going to go upstairs in my heelys to look at lingerie.”

“Lingerie?” Zevran smirked, and bit his lip. “We will be lingerie shopping if you need us.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, Zevran made this joke about tandem biking... and then Nymeria_Snow requested seeing them go tandem biking, and I stg I had just... I needed to write this.

_Anders_  
_Anders  
You tall asshole, help_

_Don’t text-spam me dammit it’s so annoying_

_How do you say no to an excited and happy woman?_

_.....why?_

_Nyla wants to do the tandem bike thing in golden gate park this saturday she rented it for like, 1pm. Without asking first, of fucking course. Now I have to wake up at the crack of ten._

_Why is tandem biking a bad thing, again?_

_Do we have to live out every fucking romance trope??? I just… cannot._

_She’s a romantic. Just… give into it._

_No! I need to figure out how to say no to her without making her sad._

_How many times does she have you wrapped around her finger?_

_… all the times_

_Might as well just embrace it_

_Nooooooooo_

_Tandem biiike_

_Fuck off Anders you’re not being helpful i do not want to tandem bike_

_Awwwww she’ll be so sad though_

_I hate you so. fucking. much._

  
“So cruel. Way to support a friend.” Leliana laughed hard, catching her breath before resuming buffing Anders’ nails. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”

Taking a deep breath to calm from raucous giggles, he lit up with a brilliant idea. “Oh! Oh! We should go. I need to see this. He’s always tormenting us and he’s so… _fucking good at it._ We need this.”

“Ohhh yes… oh no… we need to...” Leliana chuckled hard, trying hard to stop for a moment, and giving in to a long bout of laughter, hitting her legs with her fists. “Show up in full regalia dressed for Tour de France in those…”

“Those fucking tight little biker outfits, _oh god!”_ Bouncing his legs in laughter and giddy excitement, he continued. “We need to match. Matching helmets. And don’t tell them we’re coming.”

“And follow them and take video… send it to Emily. She’ll show _everyone!_ ”

 

*******

 

“You don’t?” Nyla blinked at him, tilting her head. “But you’re the one who brought it up.”

“You did not hear the whole conversation. I asked Anders to kill us if we tried.

“Come onnn, pumpkin,” she crooned, biting her lip. “Do it for me?”

"Look, yes we're romantic, but must we-"

“Come on, it’ll be fun. It’ll make a sweet story to tell our-” she bit her lip, cringed, clenching her fist.

“You were going to say children,” he teased, smirking at her.

Sputtering she scooted further away from him on the couch. “No! Nooo… I was going to say we can tell your mommies.”

“With that backpedal, it is no wonder you are so fixated on this bike thing. Your cheeks are still pink.” Laying back on the couch and nudging her with his toes he spoke in a sing-song voice, “Nyla wants to have my babies.”

She shook her head and pointed, “Don’t you dare start with your baby fever. We’ve only lived together for like… ten minutes.”

“It has been two months tomorrow.” He prodded her again with his toes. “And, apparently this household operates in negatives. I say I do not want to tandem bike ride, so it means I will. You say you do not want to have my babies, it means you do. I have just received permission to have baby fever. We should test this theory. I wonder what happens when I say I hope nobody crawls toward me and gives me a blowjob?”  

“How about…” she bit her lip and wiggled her eyebrows, “I blow you in exchange for the tandem bike ride.”

“You would blow me regardless.”

“I know,” she shrugged, crawling toward him. “But this way, I get what I want twice.”

 

*******

 

 _“Yes,_ helmet, Nyla.” He spoke incredulously. “What if we fall? I need your entire head intact _forever.”_

“Okay, okay, honey,” she giggled, pulling the helmet on and buckling the chinstrap. “I just, didn’t want to get all sweaty.”

“Worth it.” He reached over and adjusted it for her, tilting it more forward, tightening the chinstrap. She hopped on the back seat and he chuckled, “And I’m in front? Lovely.”

“I want to stare at your ass in those shorts. You can watch mine on the way back,” she winked, motioning with her head for him to hop on. “Come on, my moody pumpkin. It’ll be fun. I’ll make it fun.” 

 

*****

 

“You look too hot in that!” Anders gasped at Leliana in the tight, pink biking outfit, her breasts round and prominent, accentuated ass, _curves, curves, curves, uughh!_ He leaped at her, kissing her enthusiastically, grabbing her supple bottom with both hands to pull her closer.

“We’re…” Leliana panted, kissed him hard, running eager hands along his arms, already having forfeited to their mutual desire despite her pending complaints. “We’re going to be late.”

“Mmm hmm,” he hummed, guiding them to his room.

 

*****

 

“I love this!” Nyla giggled happily. “It’s such a nice day for it!”

He glanced back at her with a smirk, “I’m glad, amor.” Tandem biking wasn’t too bad. It was just like riding a bike with her, only he didn’t have to worry about her wandering off.

“Thank you for this, honey, I love you!” She giggled and pedaled at their leisurely pace. He nodded in response. _So grumpy,_ she leaned forward, feeling needy, wishing he would join in her fun. “Are you okay?”

“I simply cannot believe my life is a one fucking romance trope after the other.”

Nyla cackled, “This isn’t so bad. It could be tropier.”

“No,” he sighed deeply. “It literally cannot.”  

With a sly smile, she leaned forward and sang softly, “Imagine me and you, I do.”

“Oh no!” He laughed, “Okay it could be tropier.”

 _Finally!_ Boyfriend laughter; clearly she should sing more. “I think about you day and night, it's only right.”

“I get it, amor.”

“To think about the girl you love and hold her tight,” she leaned in and purred, “so happy togetheerrr…”

“Cute,” he couldn’t help but chuckle again, shaking his head.

“If I should call you up, invest a dime, and you say you belong to me, and ease my mind…”

“Nyla, why do you know _all_ of the words?”

“Imagine how the world could be, so very fine…” she leaned in and purred again, “so happy together.”

“Amor, seriously, don’t-” he cringed a little, bracing himself.

With a dramatic intake of air she tossed her head back. _“I can't see me lovin' nobody but you, for all my liiiiife!”_

“Don’t make me turn this bike around.”

 _“When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue, for all my liiife!”_ Pausing for breath, she saw Zevran’s shoulders subtly relax, and she continued softer, “Me and you, and you and me. No matter how they toss the dice, it had to be...”

“Are you literally going to sing this whole song?” He looked back at her with a quirked eyebrow, and she was grinning ear to ear.

Enunciating her words with a pointing finger and a playful wink, she continued. “The only one for me is you, and you for me, so happy togetheeerr.”

“You are going to sing the entire fucking song?” He turned his head to watch the path.

Her answer was an intake of air, and letting go of her handlebars to extend her arms and belt out with unbridled drama, _“I can't see me lovin' nobody but you, for all my liiiife! When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue, for all my liiiife!”_

“God damnit, Nyla.” He sighed, succumbing to his fate of being a living trope. _At least the song is almost over…_

“Me and you, and you and me, no matter how they toss the dice, it had to be. The only one for me is you, and you for me…”

“So happy togetheeeer!” Leliana’s voice rung out, startling Zevran, making them waver on their tandem bicycle.

Then it got worse, as they all were intimately familiar with the entire fucking song. Every fucking sound, every damned word. _“Ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-baaaa!”_

“Fucking tandem bicycles,” Zevran grumbled, wondering if they had planned this.

 _“Ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-baaaaaa…”_ Leliana, Anders, Nyla, singing each ‘ba’ in impeccable harmony.

Anders on the back seat of a tandem bicycle, Leliana in front, he bent his legs at the knee, resting his toes behind himself on the seat and continued the song. “Me and you, and you and me...”

Leliana and Nyla on back up with crooning _ahhh_ sounds.

“God damnit.” Zevran rolled his eyes and looked forward. “Nyla you’re supposed to pedal with me here.”

“No matter how they toss the dice, it had to be.” Anders continued impassioned singing, reaching out to caress his fingers down Leliana’s back. “The only one for me is you, and you for me, so happy togetheeer.”

The three assholes continued to sing together in perfect harmony as if they had been practicing for decades, with Leliana as their frontwoman, “So happy together...”

“Leli, no!” He looked at her with wide eyes, and she blew him a kiss. “What are you _wearing?”_

“So happy together...”

_“Oooooh…”_

“So happy togetheeerrr…”

_“Oooooh…”_

“How is the weather...”

_“Ba-ba-ba-baaa, ba-ba-ba-ba…”_

“So happy together…”

_“Ba-ba-ba-baaa, ba-ba-ba-ba…”_

“We're happy together…”

_“Ba-ba-ba-baaa, ba-ba-ba-ba…”_

“So happy together…”

_“Ba-ba-ba-baaa, ba-ba-ba-ba…”_

Zevran clenched his jaw as their voices eventually tapered off, after taking fucking forever. Slowing their tandem bicycle to a stop, Zevran planted his feet firm on the ground, turned toward them, and yelled in awe and frustration, _“The fuck did I just witness!?”_

  


*******

 

“Stop that.” Nyla insisted from the other side of their table.

After their tandem bike ride, which even Zevran enjoyed after he relaxed from their spontaneous musical, they decided to eat at an outdoor cafe in Sausalito.

“Mm?” His attention snapped to her. “Stop what, amor?”

“You’ve been staring at that man for like, five minutes.”

“No harm in watching someone be happy.” His eyes flicked over again as the man kissed the infant’s head. He could enjoy that; a babe asleep in his arms, warm against his chest. Little Nyla-colored eyes looking up at him with a toothless smile, dressed in gender neutral clothing. _I would take my baby every god damn where._

“Stop that,” Nyla chuckled as his gaze dragged back to her reluctantly.

It seemed babies were everywhere, as he noticed a man stroll by with a pregnant woman on his arm. Nyla would be the prettiest pregnant woman. Sexy, even. Big round belly, swelling breasts; he needed to draw that. She would need him to care for her and give her sex on demand. Sending him to the store to fulfill her random cravings and freaking him out with her propensity to consume actual dirt when he would willingly cook her the most amazing meals. And he would give his emotional, weepy, adorable, amor _so many massages._ She would visit him at work and he could show off his lovely, pregnant-

“Zevran. Zev. Zev. Stop.” Eyebrows furrowed, he finally looked at her. “Stop. No babies.”

“What are you reading my fucking mind?” He unclenched the fist which had been pressing against his lips, and a man jogged past with a stroller. Zevran would get his daughter the best stroller with real rubber tires just like that; easy to push, shock absorbing so she would be safe, and he could take her everywhere. It would be so _fun_.

“... a dog.”

“I’m sorry, amor, what?” Or little front carrier. He could do that. Could wear a baby while he painted. A baby sleeping against his chest while he painted? _Uuugh that would be amazing._ Zevran would be the best dad.

“... you want?”

“What?” Zevran sighed, sitting up in his chair. “I’m sorry amor, my mind wandered. I wasn’t listening.”

“What like, the whole time?” Nyla giggled at him, “You were nodding... god dammit. I’ll start over. How about we get a dog?”

“What for?” A woman with a baby on her back! _UGH!_ Nothing seemed cuter in the entire fucking world than Nyla with a baby in a soft baby backpack.

“God dammit, Zevran.” She laughed at him and sipped her coffee, googled _corgi_ on her phone. She had met several corgi’s in her lifetime, and it seemed he would like one. “Pumpkin. Honey. Look. This is my guess of what you would like.”  

The woman with the baby strapped to her back walked up to her partner and kissed her, they held hands and walked away together and it was _too_ god damn sweet he was going to fucking die- “What amor?”

“Take my phone and look at it.”

“Yes, cute. Short little legs! Yes, I could see having a corgi. Get one if you wish, amor.”

“No, for _you!”_ Nyla cackled watching his gaze drift away toward a man pulling a chair out for a pregnant woman to sit on; he wasn’t even listening. “Zevran. Darling. Sweetheart. _Dammit._ ”

  


*******

  


_Amor._  
_Amor._  
_Hey._  
_On break yet?_  
_Now?_  
_I need to tell you something._  
_Really badly._

_Hey is everything ok?_

_Yes._  
_Do you remember the website you had someone build for me to publish my works on and I said what for and you said for publicity and I said what public and you took a glamor shot of me with a short bio and mentioned my eidetic memory and such?_

_Hehe yes darling I remember that whole thing.  
_

_Apparently being a self-taught painter with an eidetic memory is an interesting selling point for art and now this woman wants to come and see my works in person. Said I have “sellable art” or some such.  
AMOR COME BACK AND READ THIS. _

_Work is busy. Holy shit, a gallery came to YOU? That’s amazing._

_Yes... YES What exactly do I do???_  
_Why exactly are you still a fucking waitress with weird hours stop this._  
_Why would I show my art and sell it if not to make money?_  
_We do not need money. I hate being rich what am I doing with my life?_  
_Sell my ART? I sell tattoos!_  
_I never wished to sell my paintings I was fine stacking them everywhere and leaving them hung up on my walls._  
_Amor, What do I do? This is your fault._  
_Stop being a waitress fuck!_


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Current mood: Drama Bomb.  
> [Here, have a song. ](https://play.spotify.com/track/7d1DMi7jY7kABefi8XiNxF)
> 
> [You know what? Have the whole god damn sound track.](https://play.spotify.com/user/cheshire_kittie/playlist/03cnrdw9kXeTf2w0HPNnFP)

“Hello, Zevran.” Dorian smiled, standing behind the counter with hands folded in front of himself. “We heard you had fun yesterday.”

“Oh, did you?” Zevran smirked, and that damned song started playing. _Imagine me and you, I do._ “Okay so yes you did.”

Following Dorian’s gaze, Zevran turned to see a new picture adorning the wall. Zevran and Nyla on a tandem bike, his arms extended with a frustrated stare and a quirked eyebrow. The caption read _‘The fuck did I just witness?!’_

“My girlfriend looks so happy!” Zevran laughed. _“Yes!_ That is totally a ‘the fuck did I just witness’ face. How did I get so precious?”

“Unfazeable.” Emily scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh no,” Zevran chuckled, pulling a big pink flower from his pocket and reaching over the counter to tuck it behind her ear. “I was fazed. You should have seen Leliana’s outfit. Now, from _Anders_ I could expect such transgressions, but from her it was just fucking... wrong. Anders must have bartered something to get her into that.”

“Describe it to us, in great detail,” Dorian leaned on the counter.

Zevran showed pictures; he did not expect Dorian to scream with laughter and begin texting them to himself. Oh well, that was going to probably haunt her. _Serves her right for wearing it._

“Look at those thighs.” Emily cleared her throat and started looking busy. “I mean, what?”

 

*******

 

_You ready, honey? I'll be there soon.  
_

_Si, amor. I will be out front._

_Are you excited?_ _  
_ _I’m excited._

_Yes!_

 

“Coming with?” Emily spoke playfully, “Or you busy?”

“Busy. Girlfriend is picking me up.” Zevran smiled with a nod. “We are taking bachata classes today.”

“Bachata, now?” Emily turned out the lights. “That is _very_ sexy.”

“Mmm hmm, we have been taking classes for a few weeks now.” Looking at the wall, he saw a picture of himself and Nyla cuddling in his tattoo chair; it made him happy, seeing their contented faces, legs entangled, arms tight around each other.

Dorian came from the back room, ready to go. “Alright, quit making moon eyes at your cuddle picture. Get your ass off the counter, and out the door.”

“Girlfriend is very pretty,” Zevran spoke, just to lay it on thick and make them gag. They thought they could tease him about her, however, it was impossible to shame the shameless. “She has really big-”

“We know, Zev.” Emily pressed her palms against his back and shoved. “Get off. The counter.”

“… eyes.”

“Look at those shoes!” Dorian clasped his hands together, “Butterflies! They're so gay! _I love them!”_

“Yes,” Zevran lifted his legs to give Dorian a better view before he hopped down. “Girlfriend likes buying me things.” Slinging his satchel over his shoulder, Zevran followed them out the front door. “Have fun, say hi to everyone for me, and drink several more drinks for me.”

“We will do no such thing,” Dorian preened, resting an arm around Emily’s shoulders. “You will simply have to show up for your own social engagements. Come on, Em. We will drink enough for ourselves and maybe somebody else, but not Zevran.”  

“Wow!” Zevran chuckled, watching them walk away. A few minutes later they drove by, honking the horn and waving with wide smiles. Zevran wiggled his fingers at them, and took his phone from his pocket.

 

_Out front, amor!_

_I’m coming, just_  
_Sorry, greenlight, now redlight. I’m like 5 blocks away._  
_Sorry I’m late, the traffic is being a DICK… 4 blocks._  
_You mad at me? 3 blocks._  
_Aww, cmon pumpkin_  
_We’re still going to get there on time I promise. 2 blocks._

 

Nyla could see him from half a block away. She sped up, slammed on the brakes, slammed the car in park, flung herself out of the car, and ran to her love, lying prone on the ground.

“Zev!” Her heart could stop, her hands trembled, breathing became a challenge. “Pumpkin?” Her skin crawled, her arms and legs felt like jelly, and she fell to her knees, touched his cheek. _Not again._ “Zev?”

 

*******

 

_Leliana?_  
_Hey._  
_Hey Leliana._

_Yes, I’m here._

_You busy?_

_Not especially. What’s up._

_Will you come over?_

_No, we’re going to stay in tonight._

_Okay._

 

“Who’s that?” Anders spoke from the sink, where he washed their dinner plates. “I’m guessing by the three-text nagging it’s either Zevran or Nyla.”

“It’s Nyla. She’s inviting us somewhere. She gave me an address and just said to come over. I don’t feel like going out.”

“Me neither. I still want to know what shit she’s trying to drag us into.”

“It looks like… she’s… at a hospital?” Leliana furrowed her brow and handed the phone to Anders. “Am I wrong?”

He dried his hands and took the phone from her outstretched hand. Double checking the texted location he tilted his head at her, “She’s at a hospital.”

“What the _hell_? If something is wrong why the fuck-”

“She isn’t good at communicating shit when she’s flipping out, remember?”

“Oh shit.” Leliana’s hands flopped onto the table.

“Shit!” Anders met her wide eyes with his own

Leliana sat back in her chair and palmed her face. “Shit!”

“Fuck!” Anders grabbed Leliana’s phone.

“Fuck.” Leliana ran to her room to get her shoes and jacket.

 

_Nyla, where specifically are you?_

_This ER here._

_What’s going on?_

_They took him. I don’t know._

 

“Something happened to Zev,” he called out, slipping on his shoes. “Leli, honey, grab an extra sweater. For Nyla. It gets cold in there.”

His own memory of waiting to see Leliana came back to him. Cold, lonely, afraid, waiting for anything. A verdict, a status, a friend… anything. Anders and Zevran had been so beside themselves, Nyla did the talking; something told him he would be talking this time.

 

_We’re coming, it’s going to be okay._

_Okay._

 

*******

 

“Please hold still, Mr. Arainai.”

“Nyla?” Blinking rapidly, everything around him remained an off-white blur.

“Just be still for a few more moments, Mr. Arainai.”

So he laid still, his eyes refusing to focus on any one thing, his head aching, pounding, he groaned. He didn’t feel safe, but the authoritative voice seemed to know what he should do. Attempting to shift his arms, he couldn’t, as he seemed to be constricted.

“Hold still, Mr. Arainai.”

That voice again, saying the same shit. With a nauseating sensation of pressure in his head, he couldn’t see, and all he wanted was his fucking girlfriend. “Have you seen Nyla?”

“Please be still, Mr. Arainai. You’re almost done.”

_Okay whatever but where the fuck is Nyla?_ Despite their preference for him to be still, they moved him. _Please stop that,_ he wanted to say, instead he groaned; nauseated, with a nagging, almost intolerable pressure in his head. _She makes everything better._

A bright light shone in his eyes, one after the other. _Mother fucker._ It didn’t help the persistent pain in his head, the nausea, or tell him where his girlfriend was, so he swatted it away. _Moving is bad._

“You’ll get to see her soon, Mr. Arainai. Almost done. Hold still.” a voice spoke and light flashed in his eyes again.

Why did every authoritative voice insist he needed to hold still, and then move him?

“Where is Nyla?” Managing to zero his gaze on a digital clock high on the wall for a moment, he cringed at the light. “When can I see Nyla?”

“Shortly after we’re done.”

The answer only satisfied him briefly, and more questions arose. _Done with what? How long is it going to take?_ Zevran tried to look at the clock again and the pressure in his head intensified, he clenched his jaw, pained moans slipped from him. A distant voice spoke.

“He’s in pain.”

 

*******

 

_It’s happening again._ Nyla chewed her thumbnail, her leg bounced nervously.

_It’s happening again._ Her mind spun in unbridled panic, and she knew of nothing other than Zevran being safe in her arms could make it stop.

_I could have been there sooner._ Those annoying red lights, though; less of an annoyance, more of a detriment, she should have run them. _Fucking red lights._

Looking at the door, she wondered if they were almost there. _I shouldn’t have texted them._ Now her friends were going to see the mess. Zevran would have reminded her; _your friends love you._ This relaxed her a little.

_I should call Fergus._ But, then again, what the hell could he do? _10pm, he’s probably asleep anyway._ Her mom, would know exactly what to do. _I want my mom._ She hopped up and paced. _It’s happening again.  
_

 

*******

 

“Grab the… Leli grab the thing behind you.” Anders pointed to the back seat.

“What fucking _thing?_ ” She snapped.

“The hoodie! Calm down, honey.”

“Oh.” She snatched it from the back seat, closed the door, and walked hastily alongside Anders. “She’s always wearing layers, she’s probably okay.”

“No, that’s Zevran.” Anders chuckled, “how do you get them confused? It’s so funny.”

“I guess it’s up to you to keep me straight then.” Clasping his hand, for comfort and to slow his long legs just a little, they jogged through the sliding glass doors.

“There she is. You go to her, I’ll figure out what’s up. It's going to be okay.” A kiss on Leliana’s hand, he let her go and went to the front desk.

Nyla sat in a chair by the furthest wall; bright red dress, high heels on the floor beneath her chair, reclined lazily with her head on the back of the chair. Affect flat, she stared at the television, thumbing her phone absently.

“Nyla?” Leliana spoke softly, and Nyla sat up straight in her chair. “You okay?”

“We were supposed to go bachata dancing.” Nyla’s lips trembled, forehead wrinkled; it took every ounce of control to not curl up in her lap and cry. “He’s supposed to be okay.”

“I know.” Leliana draped the hoodie over her shoulders and rested a hand on her back. She glanced up to see Anders speaking with a nurse on the other side of the check in window. “Have you called Fergus?”

“No.” Nyla nibbled her index fingernail.

“You should.” Her eyes flicked nervously toward Anders, burning to know what happened. “Don’t you think he would want to know if you’re going through something?” Nyla occurred as fragile, and hanging on by a thread.

“Oh god.” Nyla scrubbed her forehead, reeling with panic. _Going through something?_ Nyla’s leg bounced. Tongue numb, lips trembling, she wiggled her toes, stroked the tops of her thighs with wide palms in a smooth, repetitive motion. _Deep breathing. In the nose, out the mouth._ She shook her hands and arms. _He’s not dead. He’s not going to die._

“Damn it,” Nyla whimpered with trembling breath. _I want him back._ She stared at her toes, wiggling them against the carpet, prompting her heart to slow with deep breathing. “Oh my fuck.”

“Hey,” Anders kneeled in front of the two women. “They’re moving him to the ICU soon.”

“What does that mean?” Nyla’s heart leaped, “I know what that means. It’s that place they take them when… the… oh god.” She shook her hands again, flexing her fingers. “I forget what that means.”

“It’s okay, Nyla, listen.” Anders spoke calmly. “It means you can visit soon.”

Pressing palms to her cheeks, she squeezed her eyes shut. All she could see was Zevran tethered to a stretcher; rushed away from her, leaving her alone with arms hanging limp at her sides and staring after him in abject horror. _Pumpkin, no. Please don't leave me._

“What happened?” Leliana asked, “What did you find out?”

“They were doing tests.” Nyla looked at Anders with wide eyes.

“Can you hear this right now, Nyla?” Anders kept a steady and relaxed voice, encouraging her to be calm.

“Of course, yeah,” she nodded, breathing deeply in through her nose, out her mouth.

“Perfect. Keep breathing like that, just a little slower. There’s a really small crack in his skull near the occipital lobe, that’s here,” he turned, pointing to the back of his head.

“Mother fucker,” Nyla breathed.

“Listen, tiny,” Anders rested a palm on her shaking leg.

“Fuck you,” she whispered hastily, nibbling her thumbnail again.

“His brain is bruised, that’s the worst of it. He’s going to be okay, just… maybe headaches, his eyes might be a little fucked up, he might be confused. Just for a bit.”

“What the fuck is a bit?”

“It takes as long as it takes.”

“Okay. So we don’t know what’s happening.” Nyla looked over at Leliana, who wept silently into her hands.

“No, everyone’s brain is different, but they’re optimistic. They did the things, they know the science. It’s going to be okay.” Anders sighed deeply, and sat back on his heels. One woman sobbing, the other one feral, one of his best friends with brain damage; he could manage this.

Closing her eyes a moment, Nyla pressed a palm to her heart. _‘It feels like my heart is constricted. Wrapped in chains.’ ‘So break them.’_

“I need to call Fergus.” She picked up her phone, swiping and tapping, confusing her to an unreasonable degree. “Oh, _jesus christ.”_

“I got it, Sketchy.” Anders took the phone from her, and as if it were the most simple task in the world, he found Fergus’ number and hit call. “Just put the phone to your head.”

Standing, she strode to the window and paced.

“Yo, sis bitch, how was bachata?” Fergus playful voice chimed in on the second ring.

“You sleeping?” Moments of silence made her nervous. “Am I bothering you?”

“What’s wrong, pup?” All play ceased, and she had his attention.

“Do you remember Zevran?” She struggled, unsure of where to begin.

“Of course,” he spoke patiently; of course he remembered the man she lived with.

“Someone assaulted him.” Resting a hand on her pounding heart, she almost couldn’t speak for the tears. She continued, her voice at a whisper, “He has brain damage. I'm so scared.”

Moments of his little sister’s gentle weeping and sniffles sounded through the phone, and he could not believe this could happen to her again. It seemed anyone she got close to, with the exception of himself, just seemed to find a way to prematurely shuffle off their mortal coils. “Is he going to be okay?”

“They’re optimistic.”

“I’ll be there in a few hours. Send me the address of where you are, text me if he gets sent home and I’ll go there instead. I’m going to make a few calls, and I’ll grab a late flight out.”

“Kay,” she whispered. “Thanks.”

“Want to talk more?”

“No,” she looked over at Anders and Leliana; he held her as she wept. “I want to go wait for them to let me see him. They said they’re moving him to the ICU now.”

“That’s a good sign. See you in a few hours?”  
  
“Thanks. Love you, bye.”

 

*******

 

The pain had subsided at some point, and he opened his eyes, the world still a blur; there were no bright lights shining directly in his eyes. _Thank. Fucking. God._ He let his eyes flutter closed again, feeling sweet, painless relief.

An obnoxious and uncomfortable thing rested over his mouth and nose, and he turned his head to shake it off. A firm hand held it in place; a little more pleasant, as he no longer felt suffocated by it. Something compressed his finger and he shook it off with a satisfied sigh. Something began to beep. _The fuck is that?_ The thing returned to his finger, the beeping stopped, and the hand released the thing on his face; suffocating. _Fuck this._ He turned his head to get away from it. _What is this chaos?_ Short tubes in his nose followed by easy breathing. _A_ _breath of fresh air, silky, dark hair between my fingers, plump lips in a sweet smile just for me; ‘We belong together.’ ‘I know.’_

“Nyla?” He whispered a desperate plea long gone ignored; _she makes everything better_.

“I’m here, honey,” a soft cadence found him, and he felt suddenly alert, eyes popping open to see a blur of dark hair, big dark eyes and pale skin.

She didn’t touch him, only hovered close by, and he reached out to her, a hand on her smooth, wet cheek; he wanted to _see_ her, and he tried to blink the blur away. “Found you,” he crooned, dry lips in a small smile. “I kept telling them you are supposed to be here.”

Reaching up to rest her hand on his, she cooed, “I’m here, baby.”

Eyes wandering the room, he couldn’t quite puzzle out where _here_ was, or why they were there. This room certainly wasn’t _his_ room. Too bleak. Not enough color. “Where are we?”

“You’re in a hospital. Someone hit you in the head.”

He could feel her tears dripping down his wrist, and he blinked to see her to no avail. “Can’t see you.”

“Do you remember anything?”

“Lots of things,” he smiled, somehow finding it within himself to be facetious; her weeping told him he wasn’t at all humorous, or perhaps she desperately needed a little levity.

“The last thing you remember, pumpkin.”

Pausing for thought, he remembered, “Buying matching butterfly shoes.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that was over a week ago. “Do you remember going on a tandem bike ride?”

“Oh, god no,” Zevran giggled, stroking her cheek idly with his fingertips. “Let us never do that.”

“I promise.” She smiled, taking his hand in hers. “Anders and Leliana are here. They would only let one of us in  for now. They don’t want us to overstimulate you.”

“Zevran likes to be overstimulated,” he smirked. “Also like babies. Do we have babies yet, amor?”

“No,” She chuckled, sniffled. “But in light of recent events, I am open to discussing it later.”

“I miss seeing things. You are usually prettier than this mess I am seeing now.”

She smiled; he didn't make a whole lot of sense, but he at least seemed relaxed. “I do look like a mess right now, pumpkin.”

“Nyla is so cute when she is a mess.” His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and he looked over at her again. “I know _you_ are here because Zevran is, but why exactly is Zevran here?”

“They're monitoring you. Someone hit you in the head.”

“That must have sucked, amor,” he spoke sadly. “This is no good. I should have done something else entirely.”

She giggled, sniffled. Wires everywhere, monitoring him; reminiscent of Alistair, but at least Zevran spoke to her. “Yes, why would you choose that? Silly pumpkin.”

“I do not remember my rationale.” Staring pensively at the pretty blur in front of him, he sighed in agitation. “Something _beeps_ again. I hate the beeping.”

Nyla reached over and adjusted the apparatus on his finger, the beeping stopped.

“Nyla fixes everything.” He clenched his jaw with a pained groan; none of this shit made sense, and he felt like crying. “Head hurts. I wish to go home, amor.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she wept silently, resting his hand gone limp next to him. Reminiscent of her time in the hospital, she pressed the call button, and spoke to the nurse. “He’s awake again and in pain.”

“Be right there.”

“What? Ow… tell her to never speak again,” Zevran cringed. “Jesus fuck.”

“I’m here honey,” she reached out and pet his hair.

He groaned and grimaced, turning his head with a hiss. “No touch!”

“Okay, it’s okay,” she whispered, doing her best to sound like she wasn’t crying, reaching for him intermittently, just to pull her hands away. “I love you. It’ll be okay.”

 

*******

 

Nyla went to the fridge hungry and lightheaded with no appetite for anything. Reaching out with a trembling hand, she picked up a can of whipped cream, shook it up and squirted some in her mouth. It reminded her of their sexy food hijinks, and she started crying again. Putting the can back, she retrieved a bag of broccoli florets. After three minutes in the microwave on high, she dumped them on a plate and ate them at the counter.

The front door chimed, as Fergus entered. “Are you crying at the counter over a plate of steamed broccoli?”

“Yes,” Nyla chuckled, pressed her palms to her eyes, weeping harder. “Oh god.”

Pulling her into a hug, he patted her back, “There there. I’d cry too if all I had to eat was plain steamed broccoli.”

Nyla sniffled, chuckled, calming after a long hug. “Zevran bought it for stir-fry. Did you find anything?”

“Surveillance tapes of the entire thing from two angles. Dorian was very cooperative and reassured me that Zevran’s job is not in jeopardy.”

“Okay fine but, is the man they arrested the same one as on the surveillance?”

“That is being investigated. The one they did arrest said he got the phone from someone else, but he had no answers about who he got it from. My guess is that, yes, they have him in custody.”

“Fucking, good.” Nyla pulled away from him and ate some broccoli. “I want to see him ruined, Fergus. I want his life ruined.”

“People like this ruin themselves, eventually,” he sighed, laying his keys on the kitchen table and pulling off his jacket.

“I personally, with my own two eyes, want to see him ruined. And I want to see the surveillance, do you have it?”

“No, pup.” Sitting at the table, he rested his chin on his fist. “You just need to relax and let me handle it. Are you really just going to eat steamed broccoli?”

“I just needed some food, I don’t care right now.” Picking up her buzzing phone she answered, “Tall asshole.”

“Tiny Sketchbook Girl.”

“Fuck you.”

Anders chuckled. “Anyway. How’s it going? Has he been able to sleep yet?”   

“He has been sleeping quite a bit since yesterday. He’s remembered more but doesn’t remember the incident, and still can’t see very well. He's pretty coherent most of the time but he still has these confused spells, so I put a motion detector in our room.”

“Ah. Fucking fuck. So depressing.”

“Turns out Dorian had surveillance of the assault.” Nyla sat at the table and leaned on her elbows, ran fingers through her hair.

“That’s fucking dark. Do not watch that.”Anders grew silent waiting for her response.

“Okay.” Her voice quivered.

“Nyla.”

“Yeah?”

“Do not. Watch that.”

“Okay, Anders, I won’t,” she sniffled. “Also Cass fired me today.”

“Whaaat? That’s balls. Total balls. Did you tell her what’s going on?”

“I told her family emergency.” The sound of a motion detector beeped and Nyla dropped the phone in front of Fergus. She ran through the house, into their dimly-lit room, and found him sitting on the edge of the bed staring at nothing and blinking sleepily.

“Hey.” Sitting next to him, Nyla caressed his bare back and cooed, “What do you need, honey pumpkin? Let me get it for you.”

“Something to eat,” Zevran yawned.  

“Yeah? What would you like?” Nyla smiled, so glad to hear him speak, “I have broccoli.”

“Pineapple and bacon pizza?”

“Done.”

He tilted his head at her, a blur in front of his eyes. “Can’t see you,” his lips pursed, he felt a strong desire to weep.

Nyla reached a hand up, stroked his cheek and spoke gently, “Like this, honey. Remember? Tilt your head back a little. And then...” she pressed a gentle palm to his jaw, guiding his head, “Now?”

“There you are,” he chuckled tearfully. “Think I can paint like this?”

“It’ll pass,” she smiled, tears slipping down her cheeks. “You won’t have to.”  

“Crying for me, amor?” He could see her being strong for him, hurting for him, being with him, and he couldn’t help crying with her. _This_ was partnership and devotion, and no matter what fucking happened, he would always be okay with her by his side. “When this passes, I will go on all the tandem bike rides you want, and you can sing all the sappy songs you wish to sing.”

“Will you sing them with me?” Nyla grinned happily.

“No.”


	23. Chapter 23

Of all the trials Zevran imagined he would face within his lifetime, blindness had never been one of them.

Blinking at his sleeping girlfriend, he tilted his head back in an attempt to have a glimpse of her. A blip of clarity startled him, and his heart leaped with excitement; for just a moment, he saw her. _So perfect._ It was common for him to see her pretty face and feel instant attraction. He loved her pouty lips and big, dark eyes. The shape of her face always did things to him especially when she wore her hair down. To see her sleeping so peacefully next to him, perfect lips as relaxed as her breath; this was the face of the woman who loved him, and he couldn’t pinpoint the moment she became more than a pretty face.

He imagined there was no moment, only the culmination of shared experiences and vulnerability. She was so much more than a pretty face; she was everything. _Is this why people get married? Is this why she wanted to marry Alistair?_

Expression of his love seemed to be through art, and he had drawn her since he met her. _Love at first sight?_ Maybe, and it wasn’t important; such stories were cute, and he didn’t feel particularly drawn to them. Wasn’t it better to work for it? Healthier? He shuddered to imagine staying with someone solely because of an instant attraction, making a habit of them.  

With neither of them working, they had become even closer, more intimately familiar, and he was not at all sick of having her around. They didn’t seem to need alone time or any of the things he been afraid of. What was it he used to say? In too deep? Such a fear-based sentiment; in reality, he was in just right.

For how close he felt to her, he could almost call his injury a good thing apart from her tears and the anxiety medication she had started taking. What happened to Zevran rocked her world in such a way she couldn’t seem to stabilize again, her wounds torn wide open. Lots of therapy, lots of medication, and given Zevran had no memory of what happened to him, he could not relate. Zevran brushed his nose against hers, and kissed her. She returned his kiss with a sigh.

“Sleep well, amor?” He spoke softly, running his fingers down her face, trying not to poke her in the eye again; he brushed her hair with his fingers. “You just sleep kissed me.” He chuckled, pulling away from her. If she wasn’t ready to wake, he wouldn’t force it upon her. “You’re so fuckin’ cute,” he whispered, sitting up.

He turned on the bedside lamp, more of a habit than helpful; an illuminated blur wasn’t much better than a dark one. He felt around his table for his pencil and sketchbook. Squinting at the tip of his pencil, he couldn’t tell if it was sharp enough so he tapped it with the tip of his finger. _Whatever, close enough._

The familiar sounds and sensations of pencil on paper satisfied something, and he tilted his head to try to see what he was doing. Far too difficult to contort his neck and hold the paper and pencil the way he was accustomed, but he was determined to make it work. Squinting, head tilting did little to help him feel as if he was actually drawing something, and he had to chuckle at himself; it still felt amazing to try.

He had a sense of learning again as he held the pencil with an iron grip. Several times, his pencil drifted off the paper as he scribbled. _I’m drawing nothing,_ he smiled, and kept going; it still felt like creation. He heard her waking sigh, felt the bed shift with her stretch.

“Hey pumpkin,” she whispered with a yawn. Her hand ran affectionately along his leg. “You’re drawing?”

“Si.” He held it out toward her. “It is supposed to be you.”

“It’s going on the fridge,” she giggled, scooting closer to him. So precious and sweet, Nyla could not fucking believe someone would hurt him, taking his eyes and his livelihood. Career over, hobbies gone… she watched him try to reinvent himself time and time again and it infuriated her, gave her a sense of helplessness, and despite what logic told her it felt like it was all her fault.

“No, really amor, tell me what it looks like.” Without being able to see her face, Zevran couldn't tell if he had been understood.

Nyla did _not_ want to be slapped in the face with everything first thing in the morning… but there it was. “It looks like when you picked up the pencil and put it back down, you put it down in the wrong place. I imagine it would be quite good if you did it… linearly? Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” He smiled for her. “From one end to the other without lifting the pencil and losing my place.”

“Yeah! It looks fantastic here, and there’s too much distance between these two points, and here, you started again too high.” she stopped pointing, and palmed her face. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m pointing. That was so dumb.”

“No, everything made sense… I did not have to see to get what you are saying.” Her quivering breath told him she was withholding tears again, and he moved to place the sketchbook on the table, missed completely and it hit the floor with a loud thud. “Shit.”

“Dammit, I’m sorry.”  

“Don’t cry, amor, everything is okay,” he spoke urgently, moving toward his lovely, weeping blur.

“Nothing feels okay right now.” She tried to pull her shit together, letting out a choked up sob. “Sorry.”

“Here is how I see it,” he began, cutting himself off with a chuckle. Reaching toward her, he felt around for an identifiable limb.

“Too soon,” she sniffled, reaching out to guide him as he seemed to be a bit lost in trying to find his way to the cuddles.

“Here is how I see it.” He hummed appreciatively as he curled into her arms; always so warm, always smelling so good, like lavender and peppermint; his storybook princess. “I have been through worse, with less Nyla.”

“Just because you’ve had it hard and had less support, that doesn’t make this good.”

“You know I’m not saying that,” he insisted. “Work with me here, amor. Things are not so bad. Problems are so much easier to deal with when you have tons of money to throw at them. We have a safe place to live. We have each other. I have no clue what this would be like without you.”

She backed away from him, trying to process a million thoughts and a million little pains. _He could have died, but he didn’t, and he’s blind now but what if it is forever? What would he do? Can I take care of a blind man? Can I be everything to him? What if I can’t? What if I fuck it up? What if I’m the worst possible thing for him? What if the doctors aren’t doing enough? What if there’s more going on and he just falls over dead? They always fucking die!_

“Zevran?” She stammered wondering if perhaps she was finally going crazy. “There’s something wrong with me.”  

“Apart from your heart beating too hard, no.” He pulled her head to his chest. “I don’t know what’s happening in that pretty head, and whatever it is, I still love it.”

She laughed and cried in his arms. “You’re so much more sane than me.”  

“It has nothing to do with sanity. Do you remember the other day when I tried to paint?” He stroked her hair; a gesture that calmed her in the worst of times.

“That was fun,” Nyla chuckled with a sniffle. “We looked so cute. All naked and covered in paint.”

“Mm hm,” he felt her soften in his arms.

 

_._.••´¯``•.¸¸.•`Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ flashback Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••._.•_

 

Waking on the couch curled up with his head on her lap, he could hear her sleepy breath over the low volume of their television. For the first time since being home he didn’t feel like throwing up as he moved.

“I feel a bit better, amor,” he whispered, caressing her bare thigh. _Mmm… tiny shorts._

Deep in sleep, Zevran didn’t feel good about waking her. Standing tentatively, he followed along the couch with his hand and closed his eyes as it felt much easier to get around without so much visual nonsense throwing him off.

Along the wall, up the three stairs, down the hall, the second door on the right, Zevran went into his studio. His personal space, filled with his paintings and everything he needed to create them. The scent of dried acrylics relaxed him, like finally coming home after being away for so long.

With arms out in front of himself, he opened his eyes, sunlight pouring in through bay windows made him hiss with burning discomfort. He stood still for a few moments, listening to his breath and the pitter-patter of kitty paws on the wood floor followed by a gentle mew. When he finally opened his eyes again, Zevran smiled at a momentary glimpse of a blank canvas on his easel and all his brushes laid out. For just a moment he saw the world with picture perfect clarity; this was good.

Zevran picked up his brushes one at a time, felt the familiar softness of bristles, frowning at one he had forgotten to clean. Dried oil paint; this brush deserved better.

“Dammit, Zevran,” he whispered, tossing it back to the table with an irritated sigh; it was going to bug him until he had a chance to fix it.

Choosing a fat brush, he felt around and found a single tube of paint. Holding it up he saw no indication of color, and gathered it must be white.

“Lame,” he whispered, putting it back and felt around at his feet for his paint box.

Pulling out another color, he tilted his head and squinted; blue, or perhaps green. With a shrug, he felt around for his palette, and disregarded the lumps of dried paint on it. He had no intent in painting any particular thing, only wanted to feel a brush on canvas, to enjoy himself, and perhaps have a memento of the silly thing he made when he was blind.

“It will go away,” he whispered to himself, reaching out. With a confused glare, his brush never landed on its target. “What the fuck.”

Stepping closer, he overcompensated, hitting the canvas with his outstretched brush. Giggling at himself, Zevran caught the canvas with a clumsy grasp and balanced it back on its easel. So, his depth perception was a little off, he could deal with that. A line drawing; he could pull off basic lines, couldn’t he? The sounds and sensations of a brush on canvas relaxed him, and he sighed with contentment as he painted in big broad strokes.

“Mi amor,” he whispered, uncaring if he painted her lips in the right place. “Preciosa.”

Leaning his head back and a little to the right, he tried to see, wondering why it worked so much better with Nyla’s hand beneath his chin. “Nyla makes everything better,” he whispered, straining to see his progress.

With a sharp intake of air, Zevran dropped his brush and pallet, vision in his right eye suddenly half gone. He backed away in startled amazement, tripping over the stool Nyla sat on as she watched him paint. Landing hard on his ass he caught himself on his hands, the stool clattering away.

“Zevran?” She called out to him.

“Nyla?” He called back, hearing the loud footfalls of her running through the house.

“Honey,” she knelt by him, speaking gently, but with urgency. “Honey, did you hit your head?”

“No,” he replied breathlessly, his heart beating hard as he stared at the new anomaly in his vision. “I made it worse, Nyla. I can’t see here, it’s black. Like I only have half a fucking eye, I made it fucking worse."

“No baby, this isn’t your fault.” Folding her arms around him, he clung to her, his cheek against her breasts. “Just breathe, it’s okay. It’s a vision cut, like the doctor said might happen. Remember?”

“No!” It felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. “What if this is my fucking life now? I thought I was improving.”

“I know you’re scared.” She spoke in soothing tones as he held tighter to her. “It’s okay to be scared.”

“I don’t know what to fucking do with myself.” He wept, and could not be held tight enough. “I am so fucking bored. I don’t want to be fucking blind.”

“I know. I’m here.” She could hear the grief and fear in his tears, recognizing it to be so similar to her own. “I’m here, honey pumpkin. I love you so much,” she whispered, cooing at him, reassuring him and letting him purge. “I’m here.”  

He calmed after a time, feeling shaky, vulnerable but safe in her arms. “You are very good to me.”

“I think I could be better,” she sighed, kissing the top of his head.

“You do everything for me. How could you possibly do more?”

“Inviting you into things other than cuddling and meals.” She smiled, let him go, and tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Taking the lead and doing things with you so you don’t feel so bored and lost.”

He chuckled tearfully with a sniffle as his shirt slid over his head. She guided him to lay back.

“Wait right here, sexy man,” she purred, kissing his belly. “I’m going to paint you.”

He pursed his lips, wiped fresh tears away and then tucked his clasped hands behind his head as a pillow. “I wish to see what you paint, amor.”

“I’ll take pictures.” Backing away from him, she saw tears drip down his temples. “You’ll see them when you’re better.”

He heard her grunt as she dragged his box of paints, heard her gathering paintbrushes. In his mind’s eye he could picture her holding several brushes in her fist and he didn’t have what it took to explain how badly he hated it when the bristles of one brush touched another.

“Here,” she whispered, touching the crown his head with a throw pillow. As he tucked it behind his head, she dragged her fingertips along his bare torso. “Would you like some music?”

“No, thank you, mi vida.” He took a deep, calming breath, in through his nose and out his mouth.

“What does that mean?” She asked, gathering several tubes of paint, she squirted a rainbow of dots around the teal blob of paint Zevran had placed on it before.

“Love of my life,” he smiled when a cold brush touched his skin and dragged along his belly. “What are you painting?”

“Can you guess?”

“A heart?” He sniffled, tears ceasing as she blew on the paint, making it feel colder.

“Guess again, pumpkin.”

Nyla made the familiar shape again and he furrowed his brow. “Two hearts?”

“It’s a butterfly,” she whispered, blowing on the paint again while watching his smile. The crease between his eyebrows smoothed out. Grabbing a second brush, she began painting on him with both hands.

“Now that feels wild,” Zevran said with a sigh. “What are you painting now? Another butterfly?”

“A heart.” They both giggled, and she nudged the hem of his sleep pants down. “I think I’ll draw a flower next.”

Gentle strokes soothed him, each line of paint turning cold as she blew on it. She used a larger, soft brush, gliding it along his arms without paint, a smaller paint-covered brush following it. Focusing on so many sensations, she occasionally surprised him with a soft kiss.

“How long have I been sleeping?”

“Like, ten seconds, sugar.” Nyla chuckled, continuing a line along his arm. “It’s okay if you want to sleep.”

“I sleep too much,” he whispered with a sigh, both brushes trailing across his collarbone. “Are you painting something now? Just a design?”

“Now I’m just giving you something to feel, my love.” She kissed the tip of his nose as she shuffled to the opposite side of him on her knees. “I love how relaxed you look.”

Hearing her speak it, he felt permission to relax into it further, his shoulders releasing tension he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Thank you, Nyla. I love you.”

“I love you.” She kissed his shoulder and proceeded to squirt paint across her fingers. “Fingerpainting time.” Her wide grin matched his, and she drew a violet colored line across his forehead. “I’m going to draw a purple dick on your forehead.”

Zevran snorted, laughed, his face scrunched with his wide grin, and he grabbed at her wrist playfully. “How dare.”

“Too late to complain, I’ve already drawn like eight dicks on you.”

“You didn’t!” He pulled her hand to his mouth to bite her, and she squirmed and squealed, trying with minimal effort to pull away from him.

“But I thought you liked-” She squealed again, as he sat up and wrestled her onto her back, his forearm landing on the pallet. _“Paint!”_ Cackling as his forearm swiped across her shirt and along her cheek, she didn’t know which to complain about first. _“My shirt!”_

“I will buy you a new one,” he giggled, straddling her squirming form. Pulling her shirt over her head, he felt around to his left for the pallet.

“Toward our feet more. Little further. Now toward us… shit, why did I help you?”

“Because you’re too cute.” Scraping his fingers across what was left of the pigment on the pallet, he dragged his fingertips along her chest and the swell of her breasts. Nyla’s paint covered fingers brushed along his cheek, along his neck, over his collarbones, and he mimicked her movements; lines of paint thinning as they caressed each other shoulders, biceps, inner elbows, forearms, sticky paint-covered palms. Zevran dared to open his eyes, and with a wave of dizziness and nausea he flopped onto her.

“You okay?” Nyla wrapped her arms around him. “Dizzy?”

“No… no, Zevran just felt like crushing the air from you.”

“Come on, pumpkin. Let’s go get a bath.”

 

_._.••´¯``•.¸¸.•`Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ fin Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••._.•_

 

“You were gentle with me. Very sweet.” Zevran could feel her heart still beating hard. “You brought the sanity then.”

“I did,” she sniffled with a deep sigh.

“All kinds of things go to shit, and you’re always there to handle it.”

 

  
_•._.••´¯``•.¸¸.•`Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ flashback Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••._.•_

 

“You okay?” Nyla responded to his sudden shudder and gasp. “Headache?”

“Headache,” he sighed.

“I’ll get your medicine.”

“The medicine makes me feel strange,” he whined, wincing.   

“They make you act strange, too. Be right back.” Retrieving his medicine, a glass of water and two cold packs, she returned to the living room to find him laid on the couch with a palm over his eyes. Pulling the curtains closed, she turned off the television, dimmed the lights and sat on the floor. “Open your mouth,” she whispered, dropping two pills in his mouth followed by a straw.

Nudging the hand away from his eyes she replaced it with a cold pack, slipping the other beneath his neck; he let out a strangled groan.

“I promise it’ll stop in twenty minutes,” she whispered, taking his hand. “Deep breaths, pumpkin.”

Time seemed to crawl as he shuddered and groaned, breathing through the ache and pressure; relief snuck up on him.

Zevran rolled onto his side to face her. “You sat there on the floor and held my hand the whole time, it helped a lot. Dimming the lights helped too. Also the cold packs were great, more of a distraction than a relief, though. It kind of felt like my head was being squeezed really hard and my eyes wanted to fall out. I hope they don’t, shit. Amor, have you ever had a headache _so fucking bad_ you felt like your head was being squeezed really hard and your eyes might fall out and then you also wish to throw up?”

“I can’t say that I have,” she giggled, stroking his arm. “It feels all better now?”

“Well, mostly. What’s left of the pain I don’t give a shit about so yes, I could say it feels all better now. It is _wild_ to be in so much physical pain, I have never been injured like this. I like thinking about how rough it is and how ridiculously awesome things will be when it’s over. I _miss_ seeing things, I miss painting. I miss seeing you, especially. And there’s this way I feel weird when we are talking and I cannot see your face I have _no idea_ what you must be thinking. I didn’t realize how much I rely on body language to feel secure with you.”

“You can always ask, darling,” she cupped his cheek with her palm. “Does touch feel okay right now?”

“No.”

 

_._.••´¯``•.¸¸.•`Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ awww ;_; Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••._._

 

“See… you help me when shit gets too hard, then I help you when shit gets too hard. You are always there, and always perfect. I am still not over how you called my parents for me and delivered the news gently, so I hear.”

“I was just being a decent human being.”

“No, listen. One moment they are excited for our visit, the next I am injured. Whatever you did has them completely enamored with you and they demand to know when our wedding is.”

Nyla giggled, “God dammit.”

“Mamá told me you are a keeper and you will tire of waiting for me to ask you. And while we are on the subject… it occurs to me, we are really fucking good at being partners.”  

“Uh oh.” She giggled and sniffled. “You’re about to go there, aren’t you?”

“Mm hmm.” Zevran ran his fingers down her cheeks and along her smiling lips. “We should get married.” The smile beneath his fingertips didn’t falter, and he giggled at how tense she became in his arms. “Am I the only one who thinks this, or no?”

“Um…” Fingers brushing over her eyes forced her to close them. “You can’t accurately feel what my eyes are doing.”

“And still I try.” His hands wandered her face, and he didn’t expect a yes, or give a shit whatever her answer; all he wanted was for her to know his desires. “You would have a cool name. Nyla Arainai.”

“My therapist told me not to make any major decisions under duress.”

“You let me know when you’re ready, if ever, hmm?”

“So,” she spoke with a quivering sigh, “it’s my turn to ask you?”

Nyla’s finger’s caressed his face, across his lips and he caught her finger between his teeth. “Yeth.”

“Ow. That’s... fair.”


	24. Chapter 24

_“Fergus!”_ Nyla hissed into the phone, “Listen! This morning he said he wants to-”

“What, take you to the arcade so you can cheat at foosball?”

“Oh my god, I did _not_ cheat. You’re just a sore loser _.”_ She giggled and ran a hand over her head. “Shut up and listen to me, I need to talk about this. He wants-”

“You to wear a gimp mask?”

 “No!  _What?_  For fuck’s sake-”

“Good, I know how you hate a gimp mask.”

“ _Fergus!_ I don’t-”

“T-M-I.”

“What the-” Nyla huffed. “Cut the shit, broheim or I’m mailing you a fucking bomb. Jesus. He says he wants to-”

“Get another pair of gay-ass matching shoes.”

Nyla could hear him withholding laughter. Curling her lips inward, she pointed a frustrated glared at the wall. Nibbling her lip, she couldn’t hold in, “And our matching gay shoes are amazing.”

Fergus snorted and laughed. “Okay go ahead. I’m done.”

Nyla let out a puff of air. “Jesus tapdancing christ. This morning Zevran asked me to marry him.”

“Already?” He blurted.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Fergus…”

“Okay, remember when I sat with him at the hospital while you went to see your psychiatrist? You know how the pain meds make him talk a lot?”

 

_._.••´¯``•.¸¸.•`Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ flashback Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••._.  
_

 

“You’re not Nyla.” Zevran woke up seeing a blur of colors far too big to be her. _Wait…_ he blinked at the dark hair and familiar gait. “Hmm.”

“It’s Fergus. Big Nyla, as you so eloquently stated. Still not sure why she’s not small Fergus.”

“She’s prettier than you,” Zevran spoke with a yawn. “But not by much.” 

Fergus rolled his eyes with a chuckle. Slipping a flask from his pocket, he took a generous swig; something to help him relax in the wake of too much time witnessing his wrecked little sister. He leaned back more comfortably in his seat with a sigh. “I take it you’re feeling better?”

“Not the best,” he muttered, scrubbing his face with his palms. “I keep waking afraid that I am waking from another seizure.”

“No,” Fergus replied gently. “You’ve only been sleeping. Are you still in pain?”

“No. Where is Nyla?”

“She’s taking care of herself,” Fergus spoke dismissively. “She’ll be back shortly. And then I’m going to wave tacos under her nose and make her eat.”

“Oh, good.” Zevran yawned again, sitting up more to stay awake. “Nyla is good.”

“She’s alright, I guess.” Fergus smiled, feeling weird about using body language to indicate anything to a blind man. “I was joking.” ... _well, that was worse._ “Being sarcastic.”

Zevran nodded, imagining her smile and big, dark eyes, pouty lips, the way her hips and long legs moved as she danced, and the way she _just loved him so much!_ _“Ugh!_ She is... _so good!”_

Fergus chuckled, shaking his head and taking another sip from his flask. “I hear you, buddy.”

“I never thought this would happen, you know?” He spoke with a rich sigh, letting his head fall back. “I figured it was for other people.”

“What’s for other people?” Fergus tilted his head, watching Zevran’s relaxed and pensive face.

“Love and romance and such.” He thought of her. The way he felt when she was just _there;_ the world a brighter place. When he looked at her she always looked right back at him, meeting his eyes with adoration which he mirrored, which she mirrored, which he mirrored… _‘We belong together.’ ‘I know.’_ “I love her.”

Fergus felt the familiar pang of longing. “I have felt similarly before. Felt fortunate to have… someone.”

“Yes!” Zevran smiled, “That’s exactly it. Fortunate. I keep having idyllic visions of having a family with her, but she is... resistant.”

“Really? As far as I know, she wants that.” Furrowing his brow in thought, he added, “At least, she used to.”

“It seems losing Alistair ruined those things for her.”

“I doubt that. She’s probably still coping with that she found someone. I’m glad she got a second chance.” After a few moments of silence he continued thoughtfully, resting his cheek on his fist. “Some of us don't. You meet that perfect person, choose to spend your life with them and when they're gone the bar is set so high... are you sleeping?”

Zevran lifted his head, “Casi. Estoy escuchando.” _Almost. I am listening._

Fergus chuckled. “Déjate dormir.” _Let yourself sleep._

“No, I wish to hear you.” Zevran sat up a little more, stiffness in his back and neck making him cringe. It took a few sleepy moments for him to realize Fergus had spoken Spanish. “Nice accent.”

“Learned it in College, had a lot of practice with-” Fergus couldn’t talk about their family with Nyla, and getting to talk about _her_ felt soft and good. “With my late wife, Oriana.”

“Yes, but, how did you get her to _marry_ you and also bare your children?” Wrapped in the mystery of how to acquire Nyla as his wife, the intimacy of Fergus’ words was lost on him entirely.

Pressing a fist against his pursed lips, Fergus withheld laughter; a chuckle and snort escaped him and he cleared his throat to mask it. “I asked her.”

“Asking. Yes.” Zevran sighed, pointing his gaze at the Fergus-blur. “How did you get her to say yes?”

Breathing back the urge to laugh given the utter seriousness of Zevran's stare, he cleared his throat again. “I don’t know. It made sense. It was time.” 

“Oh no. Shit.” Zevran giggled and spoke thoughtfully, “I have to _guess_ when it is time?”

“It wasn’t a guess, per se.” Fergus smiled, wondering exactly how high this man was, or how inept. “At some point you can just tell. It was a feeling.”

“Damn,” he _tsked._ “Romance is hard. See, _I_ feel very much that it is time. I _want_ a child and a wife. I want this with _her_ specifically. I just keep imagining it, like little vignettes in my head. I can already see our daughter in my mind’s eye and feel her in my arms. I am already picturing a wedding, picturing her barefoot in a white dress on the beach. It kind of… _sucks!”_

“I see, I see, because you’re so sure she will never want these things with you.

“Fucking _exactly,”_ Zevran sighed. “When I speak of it with her, she ties it all into complex knots and tries to push _dogs_ onto me. It seems such a simple thing, you know? Make a choice, be a mom, be a wife, but she says she will be a terrible mother. Said something about… not having enough energy to plan a second wedding. _Dogs!_ I keep dismissing the idea, insisting I do not wish to have a dog and I fear she may show up one day with a dog, Fergus, _I do not wish to have a dog.”_

“She’s trying to compromise, to give you something to nurture,” Fergus replied with a shrug. 

“Not the same. I do not wish to have a baby _just_ so I can clean up shit and listen to it whine. I want to fucking _love_ it like one loves a child, not a _pet_. How is this so far fetched?”

“It’s really not. When we had our son… holding Oren in my arms for the first time… I don’t even have words for it.”

“See? That. I want _that._ The thing there are no words for.” Zevran nodded. “Now I need _her_ to want it too, so we can have it together.”

“Okay, I see. I see.” Fergus sat up in his chair, eager to help him understand his sister, and dissuade him from becoming discouraged. “What we know of Nyla. She was with Alistair for six years-”

“Jesus christ.”

“Right. Exactly.” Fergus agreed, taking another sip from his flask. “It took her like, four years to even choose him. And then she wanted a two-year-long engagement. A wedding scheduled for after they completed university. They were less than a year from graduating, and then, as you know-”

“Shit. He died.”  
  
“Yes.” Fergus nodded, “As well as everyone else. So, Nyla is on the cusp of beginning her adult life away from her parents, and it vanishes. Lost almost all of her people, and, you know... her sanity.”

“She told me.” Zevran nodded sadly. “Such dark times for her.”

“Really? She told you that she attempted to kill herself several times?”

“Fucking _several?”_ She had only mentioned the two, and he was left baffled. “What? Like, _several?”_

“Um. Wait. No. I mean who’s counting? Seven. Anyway that’s not my point,” he babbled in his regret, hoping Zevran would lose this part of the conversation in a haze of pain medication. “My point is, she was not at _all_ prepared to lose. In fact, the closer she gets to you-”

“The more scared she becomes?” Zevran’s heart ached for her.

“Yes, the more she starts feeling attachment and a sense of belonging, the more she remembers what it was like to have those things abruptly taken from her.”

 _“Shit!_ This is why she gets close and pulls away. Makes mention of having babies and then tries to throw dogs at me.”

“Precisely.”

“She is not ready.”

 _“Yet._ She had a family, included them, lost them. Now she has an entire different life. You don’t have to be what she had. You don’t have to be Alistair.”

“Fergus,” Zevran sighed, glaring. “All these words, and your big message is _be yourself?_ ”

“I guess so.” He paused for a moment to drink. “You have done a lot for her. She and I wouldn’t even be in each others lives right now if you hadn’t intervened. Let me just say, big brothers everywhere want to see their sisters have what you two share. I _want_ you two to-”

“Hey.” Nyla walked in, and with a breathy sigh she placed her purse and keys on the table.

“Hello!” Fergus spoke awkwardly loud, grabbing a paper bag and holding it out to her. “Tacos?”

 

_´¯``•.¸¸.•`Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ end flashback Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ`•.¸¸.•´´¯`_

 

“Yes,” Nyla spoke patiently. “I know how talky he gets on his meds- oh god what did he say?”

After a long pause for thought, Fergus wasn’t sure quite where to begin or if he even should. “It’s complicated.”

“Did he do the thing where he asked you for my hand?” She rolled her eyes.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I was hitting the flask a bit, we got chatty, I got to know him a little better and, honestly, you _should_ marry him.”

“Don’t you _‘should’_ me, Fergus.” Nyla fumed, “Oh my god. Leaving my drunk ass brother with my sick boyfriend. God _damn.”_

“Okay fine, I won’t _‘should’_ you. But…” he waited a few moments for added drama. “You should marry him.”

“This isn’t helpful. I need to _talk_ about it,” she spoke, exasperated and pacing the kitchen. “Before he wakes from his nap.”

“Alright. Go ahead.”

“I thought we had agreed it was off the table.” Nyla continued her nervous pacing. “I have always said I don’t want that...  _stuff.”_

“What do you mean?” Fergus asked calmly. “You wanted it with Alistair.”

“Yeah but...” she stammered, feeling as if slapped in the face. “I said I didn’t want it. I’m different now.”

“If by different you mean _extra,”_ he taunted playfully.

“I don’t want to…” she stammered again, biting her lip for a moment. “Deal with the… commitment…”

“You’re already committed. Like a penguin. Following your typical pattern. Pick one, and tenaciously cling to him. Just like with Alistair.”

Nyla’s heart leaped, and she felt a sudden urge to cry. “I’m gonna go now.” She hung up on him and silenced her phone. _Too much._

Dragging herself across the kitchen and into the living room, she felt so very heavy, her heart sore. Fear rested in her empty belly and she felt the desire to cry. Sitting on the couch, Nyla tucked one leg beneath her, the other leg bent so she could have something to hug.

She stared wide eyed at the blank screen of their television affixed to the wall. They had chosen it together. They decided where they wanted a TV, and then fucking put it there, like the couch beneath her. Nyla rocked herself gently, nibbling her lower lip.

Every item in every room meticulously, purposefully selected, because Zevran loved having things and Nyla didn’t like clutter. Together they bought the perfect amount of stuff and put it all in the perfect places. _We built this as partners._

Thinking back, she had been entirely too unclear on her desires, with herself as well as with her partner. She didn’t want to look at it, but the ache in her heart which manifested itself as a literal pain in her chest pulled her attention.

_I’m failing as a partner the more I avoid this._

Wasn’t it unfair to dismiss Zevran’s dreams as if they hadn’t been her own? What message was she giving him; that he was less than Alistair? Less worthy?

Holding her head in her hands, she wept, grieving the loss of her former life a little more; their abandoned wedding, the nest they were supposed to build, their children who had lived such full lives in her mind’s eye; she had been widowed as she had been orphaned and she feared it would happen again. _I barely survived it the first time..._

Cat chirped and sat next to her, reminding her of her life, the home she built with her partner, Zevran sleeping in their bed. _Am I really letting my fear own me? This is no way to live._

“Hi, baby,” she whispered to her kitty with a sniffle; she stood and walked to their bedroom. “Zev?” She spoke tearfully, crawling across their bed.

“Nyla?” He startled awake and sat up. Reaching out to touch her, his hand landed on her shoulder and he lovingly caressed her arm. “Crying, amor?”

Her heart beat hard and heat spread to her cheeks and across her chest. She asked him breathlessly, “Will you marry me?”

He sat in stunned silence, taking a few moments to feel what it was like to hear those words from her. “I thought you would never ask.”

“So… yeah?” She sniffled with a smile when he responded with a nod. “Today. Just us.”

Tossing away any dreams of a wedding on the beach surrounded by friends and family he pulled her into a hug, and he spoke in awe of the moment, “Of course, Nyla. Yes.” 

With arms wrapped snug around each other, she wept, and he offered her stillness and time. So wild, so ridiculous, every day with her was a new ride, and now she wanted to take this journey with him; he did not at all expect this, and if he were being honest, he didn’t ever expect it. She shifted in his arms, her cheek nuzzling against his. 

“Want to talk about this, amor?” He giggled, basking in her affections, her lips brushing his jaw. _He_ certainly wanted to talk about it, and when he felt her nod against him, he felt relieved. Did she forget he was blinded with questionable recovery? “I very much wish to understand this.”

“I had to let go of more stuff... before I could take on more stuff,” Nyla laced her fingers through his hair. “It feels right. Now feels right.”

“What if my sight never returns?”

“We learn to live like other people in the same predicament, and I will keep loving you.”

With a rich sigh, he was able to let go of the fear he didn’t know he had been living with; the permanent loss of his eyes wouldn’t mean the eventual loss of her, after all. Zevran giggled, feeling her smile and her wet cheek against his; having no eyes brought up other ways of communicating tenderness, which he basked in. “You have no doubts, brave Nyla?”

“None,” she whispered.

Excitement hit him, and it felt unreal; was he _really_ getting what he wanted? “You are choosing me?”

“Is this what it takes for you to feel chosen, my love?”

“I guess so,” he whispered, feeling his chest ache and swell.

“I choose you, pumpkin,” Nyla crooned, her lips brushing against his for a moment before devouring them.

“If you keep-” he hummed as her lips met his for another kiss so rich it made his toes curl, “kissing me-” They kissed again, and she took his face between her hands, “like this-” he chuckled and groaned as she straddled him. With an appreciative hum, he grabbed her ass and pulled her closer.

“You’re right,” she spoke breathlessly, taking just one more kiss. “If we start now we’ll be here all day. We have to get going.”

“You’re fucking serious?” Zevran laughed, reality hitting him with another burst of excitement. “We are going to do this _right now?”_

“Matching butterfly shoes?” She replied playfully, hopping up from his lap.

 _“Yes.”_ Zevran couldn’t help his smile as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “And the leather jackets we wore the day we met.”

“Romantic!” She called from his closet, rapidly gathering what he needed. “How about entire matching outfits?" 

“Fuck yes,” he responded, laughing in giddy excitement as several garments landed in his lap. “We haven’t even been outside other than the rooftop since I got home, amor!”

“Shit, you’re right.” She pulled on her shirt, grabbed her brush and stood in front of Zevran. “Don’t move,” she spoke urgently, and began brushing his hair. “You want the braids, pumpkin?”

“Yes!” He smiled, feeling her nimble fingers graze his temple as she braided his hair. “What time is it? Do we know what we’re doing?”

“It’s quarter after two. We’ll go to the city hall and see what happens.” She tethered his braids behind his head. “They might be too busy, we might get there too late, but we’re going to have fun trying.” After tying his shoes, she took his hands and guided him to standing.

Holding his hand, she guided him through the house at a quick pace, and he trusted her to not let him knock into anything; it was nerve wracking. Together, they slipped on their matching leather jackets.

“We’ll get a Lyft so we don’t have to find parking,” Nyla pulled out her phone.

 

_You alright, pup?_

_Yeah good thanks_

_What happened?_

_Nothing busy ttyl_

_Now I know you’re up to no good._

_Shut the fuck up_

 

“Told Fergus to shut the fuck up, got the Lyft… three minutes wait and it’ll save us an hour.”

“Good thinking.” Zevran swallowed nervously when the front door chimed and she grabbed his hand. “Sunglasses?

“In my purse. It’s overcast today.”

“Wait,” he pulled back as she tugged on him. “They... make me feel safe, amor. I would like to wear them.”

Nyla stopped and reached into her purse. “Here,” she crooned, sliding them over his temples and gently resting them on the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know. Anything else?”

“Walking fast makes me feel like I am going to run into things.” He reached toward her and she caught his hand, rested it on her cheek.

“We’ll take it slow.” Pressing a kiss to the thumb tracing her lips she continued, “Can we go get married now?”

“I still cannot believe you,” he giggled, his heart quivering in his chest. She linked his arm with hers and they stepped outside.

“I don’t know how to be a seeing-eye person, honey, but I promise I won’t let you get hurt.” She locked the door and turned him around. “Stairs… six of them.”

Finding the first was no problem, finding the last was awkward. Zevran found the colorful blur of outside overwhelming when compared to the familiar blur of his home, so he closed his eyes. Sounds happened around him, and he had to rely on Nyla to make sure he wasn’t standing in the road or in someone’s path; he clung tight to her arm.

“Nervous?” Nyla asked, noticing his puckered brow and the iron grip on her arm.

“About several things, yes.” He sighed, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his mouth for a quick kiss. “Holding your arm is very soothing.”

“I’m glad. I promise I won’t let go of you. Here’s our Lyft. Hold my hand, and the curb is two paces in front of you.”

With her hand on his head, they got in the car without incident, Nyla sat in the middle seat to be close to him, and he wrapped his arm around her. They rode in silence, exchanging affectionate touches, toying with each others fingers, Nyla’s nose brushed against his cheek with a giggle. The song _Unconditionally_ played on the car radio; mood music that had him in tears. _Damn you, Katy Perry!_

“My life is a trope,” Zevran laughed, nipping her lip as she tried to steal another kiss.

“Ow!” Nyla giggled until he let go. “You little shit. Oh my god, you’re even _eloping!_ Your life _is_ a trope.”

 _“See?”_ he spoke with a wide grin, and it hit him again. “We’re eloping!”

“I know! Oh. We’re here, pumpkin. I’ll come around and help you.” Running around the car, she swung the door open. “Come on, baby,” she crooned, taking his hand and covering his head with the other. “Thank you for the ride!”

“Congrats on eloping!” The driver waved with a smile.

“Thank you!” Nyla and Zevran called back, laughing their way to the curb.

“Step up, Zev!” Flawless. He held tight to her arm and they walked for a short time. “Stairs. Let’s take it slow, they’re… awkward, wide stairs. Does keeping your eyes closed help?”

“Yes. Since the blur often has trails, and vision cuts are startling, the dark is far more pleasant.”

“It’s like your eyes are chaos,” she spoke softly, watching his serene face with rapt attention. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled, stroking the arm linked with his. “Yes. It is the worst, amor.”

“Last step, I’ll get the door. Don’t let go of me.”

He chuckled as she rushed them along faster. “First Nyla says no and now she is in such a hurry!”

Nyla stopped walking and wrapped her arms around his waist. “We’re in line.”

“Oh shit.” Zevran chuckled, holding her tight. “This is _crazy,_ amor, listen, my girlfriend woke me up an hour ago and now I am marrying her.”

“That is crazy! What's gotten into her?” She guided them a step forward and snuggled into him. “Zev? What did you and my brother talk about in the hospital? He wouldn’t tell me.”

“I asked him how to convince you to marry me.” Zevran rolled his eyes with a _tsk_ and spoke incredulously, “He said for me to be myself. I _hate_ it when people say this. Who the fuck else would I be?”

Nyla stared at him with a furrowed brow and moved them one step forward. “That was adorable. You’re fucking adorable.”

“I am serious! What, does he think, I put the Zevran on hold while I woo?” He huffed.

“I’m keeping you forever.” Staring at him with wide eyes, she could not believe how fucking adorable one person could be. “I can’t even…”

“Can I help you?”

Nyla startled, her heart leaped into her throat, and her brain slowed to a crawl. “I… uh… we, like... ”

“This dork and I wish to marry right now.”

“Sorry,” the clerk spoke apologetically, “You should have made an appointment. The only thing we have available is the Mayor’s Balcony and it’s $1,002 plus $99 for licensing fees and the-”

“Sounds good I have money,” Nyla blurted, snatching the form from the clerk’s outstretched hand. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” The clerk chuckled and waved her along. “Step aside, fill this out, and bring it back. You have about thirty minutes.”

“This way, Zev.” She tugged his arm and he followed. “I think I got most of this…” she spoke, hastily filling out each field in her neatest hand.

Zevran stood close to her with a palm on her lower back. Footfalls echoed around him, people often brushed against his back as they passed. “I wish I could see what you are doing.”

“It’s fairly simple. Your name. My name. Birthdays. Oh.” Nyla side-eyed Zevran, having completely forgotten; “What’s our last name going to be?”

“Arainai.” Zevran spoke with a nod.

“Cousland-Arainai?” Nyla chanced to ask, and he responded with a disagreeable hum. “Arainai-Cousland?”

 _“Nooo!”_ He whined.

“Alright, alright,” she smiled at his tightly furrowed brow, and resumed her writing. “Nyla-”

“Arainai.”

“I’m writing it!” She chuckled.

“Promise?”

_“Yes!”_

“I will find out, and then make you do the paperwork to fix.”

“Pumpkin.” She smirked and leaned in close to purr, “Calm. Your bosom. And now I just have to fill in this extra field to change your name to Pumpkin Arainai.”

“Might as fucking well,” he chuckled, nuzzling his cheek against her head.

He waited patiently for her to finish. Kissing her temple, holding her close, dragging fingertips along her smiling face. Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out his chapstick and dragged a thin layer onto her dry, pouty lips.

“Love you,” he whispered, and she responded in turn with a breathy tone and a broad smile.

“Love you. Done.” She kissed his cheek. “Wait right here.”

He held to her. “Zevran very much prefers to stay with you.”

“Alright. Hold onto my waist, baby,” she crooned, taking three steps to their right, and he stayed with her. “Okay we’re done with the form. Does everything look right?”

“It felt further when we left,” Zevran spoke softly with a giggle. He should have known she wouldn’t have gone far, but he rather would be right where he was, resting his forehead on the back of her head, smelling her hair, feeling her warmth and softness against his chest while she discussed the particulars with the clerk. _Wife._ Her fingers laced with his hand around her waist, and she stroked him with her thumb. He focused on the sensation, wondering what this place looked like, what _she_ looked like. Did she look happy and refreshed? Did she have those cute little wisps of hair out of place?

“Hey. Pumpkin.” Nyla turned her head, “Honey? Hold onto my arm.”

“Mmm?” He snapped out of his reverie and moved to hold her arm. “Where are we going? I wasn’t listening.”

“It’s time to get married,” she whispered, leaning toward him as they walked. “We’re following the officiator and our witness to the Mayor’s Balcony.”

“Holy shit,” he whispered back. “My heart is pounding.”

“Mine too, honey.”

Zevran leaned close and continue to whisper, “This is a big fucking deal.”

“Since we don’t have rings, we’re just going to do the vows thing, it will be short and sweet. Just like you. Stairs, hold on, baby,” she spoke lovingly. They stopped and she took his right hand and rested it on the railing. “I’ll go your pace, and I’ll tell you when we’re approaching the last step. ”

“Thank you, mi vida,” he whispered softly to his sweet woman. With arms joined, Zevran focused on the warmth of her, the cool railing beneath his palm, echoing footfalls and distant voices.

“Almost there, Zevran. Three… two…”

She guided him toward their right and they walked for a short time, the officiator telling them where to stop.

“I’ll be officiating your marriage today.” After a short pause she added playfully, “Big turn out.”

Zevran, while having his finger on the pulse of a good joke, couldn’t say anything as he felt his bride standing in front of him; her soft, warm hands in his.

“If you’re ready…”

“Not yet,” Nyla spoke up. “We just need a moment alone, please.”

“Sure, just wave at me.”

“Okay, amor?” He asked, caressing her fingers with his.

“I want you to take the sunglasses off and look at me. I know you can’t see much, but if you can bear it, I’d like to see you.”

“Okay, amor,” he smiled and nodded.

Nyla removed his sunglasses, folded them, and put them in her purse. “Open your eyes, Zev,” she whispered, and when he did, the anticipated blur was closer than he expected, and he startled with a chuckle.

“Hola, amor. You probably look lovely right now.”

“Of course,” she chuckled tearfully. “Does this feel alright?”

Zevran nodded, and Nyla waved for their officiant’s attention.

“Make it the quick one, alright?” Nyla giggled. “I want to be married like, an hour ago.”

“Zevran and Nyla, today you celebrate one of life’s greatest moments and give recognition to the worth and beauties of love, as you join together in the vows of marriage. Zevran, do you take Nyla, to be your Wife?”

“I do,” he breathed, his heart leaping as he subtly trembled.

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her, forsaking all other and holding only unto her?”

“I do,” he repeated with a nod, holding tighter to her hands, nervous sweat on his palms, heat along his skin.

“Nyla, do you take Zevran to be your Husband?”

Freeing one of her hands, she rested her palm beneath his chin, and their eyes grew moist. “A little more,” she whispered, guiding his head gently. “A little to the left…”

The head tilt; sometimes it worked, and sometimes Zevran gave himself a sore neck trying to find the sweet spot.

He saw her smiley, pink face with picture perfect clarity. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she giggled happily at the recognition in his gaze. He wept with a gleeful chuckle; he couldn’t help himself. She was lovely, she had those cute little wisps of hair out of place, she looked rested and happy and perfect.

“I do.”

He would never forget the velvety sound of her voice, the adoration in her gaze, her happy tears, the O shape of her pouty lips as she spoke the words, the gentleness of her fingers beneath his chin. _I need to paint this._

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, forsaking all other and holding only unto him?”

“I do,” she crooned tearfully, her shoulders trembling subtly as if a weight lifted from her.

“It will take faith to be willing to go forward to tomorrow never really knowing what tomorrow will bring. It will take commitment to hold true to the journey you both now pledge to share together. Zevran and Nyla, in so much as the two of you have agreed to live together in Matrimony, have promised your love for each other by these vows, I now declare you to be Husband and Wife. Congratulations, you may kiss your bride.”

Their lips met for the sweetest and most satisfying of kisses. Arms wrapped around each other, palms on damp cheeks, deep sighs through noses as they melted together. A kiss they would always remember as not only their most important kiss, but also refer to as their best work, because they were nothing if not incredibly silly.

“Te amo,” Nyla spoke breathlessly when they melted out of their perfect kiss.

“Te amo, Nyla,” he whispered, longing for the blur to dissipate, just to see her with the ease he used to only a month prior.

Their fingers laced together, hands clasped tight; they stood tall together, happy and proud. Zevran lifted her hand to press a quick kiss to her fingers.

With a deep sniffle and a satisfied sigh, Nyla looked at her husband and smiled. For the first time in so long Zevran heard her say, “I want tacos.”

* * *

Art by @captainmouchi on tumblr.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevla and Lelianders go dancing for Katalyna_Rose!  
> Special guests Nathaniel Howe and OC Hale Lavellan joining along for karaoke... Thanks, etaeternum, for letting me play with your OTP ... and Hale is the tits!!!

Zevran woke one morning and it was gone; the blur, the vision cuts, the dizzying trails. Blinking in the dim morning light, he almost didn’t want to move for fear that it was just a fluke. He looked around their bedroom for the first time in months. Clothes strewn about, having been enthusiastically removed for the previous night’s romp, Nyla’s panties caught on the ceiling fan. _How does that keep happening?_ Holding his hand up, he looked at his wedding ring for the first time.

“Holy shit,” he laughed with eyebrows raised; a band of gold, inlaid with square cut diamonds. Hearing about it and seeing it were two different things. It was over the top. It was so them.

“Nyla! I can…” he scrambled out of bed, threw on the nearest pair of sweatpants, and ran toward the kitchen. “I can see _all the things!_ ”

 _Probably on the roof quitting smoking again…_ He bounded upstairs and flung the door open to find his favorite thing to see; Nyla dancing.

Leaning back against the door with a gasp, he wished he could hear the music she danced to. The last time he had seen her was on their wedding day, and his eyes grew a little moist.

“Oh my fucking god,” he whispered, adjusting his erection. _I need to draw all of this._

Possibly one of the most beautiful moments of his life, watching his wife dance for herself across their rooftop in the early morning sun. _I need to paint all of this._ He memorized the grace with which she moved her arms and held her head, her hair in a bun, exposed shoulders, the shape of her ass, muscular calves… _those long fucking legs…_

_“Jesus goddamn christ!”_

_“AAAH!”_ Pulled from his reverie, he rested a hand on his chest. _“Fuck!”_

Nyla palmed her chest with both hands and panted, “Oh my god, Zevran. What the hell.” Removing her earbuds, she could hear his laughter as he doubled over and couldn’t help her own breathless giggles.

After taking a few moments to gather his wits, Zevran strode toward her with a smile. She noticed the difference in him; recognition in his gaze, confident stride, his arms held out to her.

“Are you looking at me?” She asked, and when Zevran nodded she ran to him, her face scrunched with an ugly cry she couldn’t withhold.

The moment they reached each other was a mad scramble to touch and kiss; hands wandering, eager kisses, giggles and tears as the worst of their troubles had simply vanished.

Nyla eventually pried her face from his; real eye contact. He looked so happy and beautiful, a big smile that touched his eyes. “I love you, pumpkin. What do you want to do first?”

Zevran thought for a few moments, petting her soft hair, letting his gaze wander the contours of her face, the glistening tear tracks down her cheeks. He took her hand and looked at her ring for the first time.

Giggling at her giant, dorky smile he said, “First, I want to clean my paint brushes. Then I want to paint something. Then I want to dress nice and go dancing. Or karaoke. Or both. We need Anders and Leliana for that. I want to choose your outfit.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her toward the door. “Have you had breakfast? I need to make breakfast. Will you watch me?”

 

*******

 

Nyla sighed, satisfied, with a full belly of Zevran’s amazing egg and chorizo tacos. “I always did everything you said to do, and you still make them so much better.”

Content to sit and just use his eyes, he smiled at her, his gaze flicking from her left hand back to her big, dark eyes. “You look lovely.”

“You’re perfect,” she whispered, and took his hand. “Meet me on the roof. I have a secret surprise.”

“Ooh!” He hopped up and grabbed his coffee. “Hurry!”

They dashed off in different directions; Zevran made his way to the roof to settle on their hammock. Such a lovely day. Clear skies, the smell of the sea on the air. Peaceful. He wondered what secret she kept, and why they had to sit in their safe space in order for her to share it. It popped into his head, an obnoxious and exciting thought that had his breath catch in his throat. _Uughh I hope she tells me she’s pregnant._

 _That was quick,_ he thought with a wry smile, his ‘baby fever’ having returned within hours of his eyes. Zevran had been overburdened, and the dream of a little girl in his arms fell by the wayside, instead facing that he may never see his wife again. Or Leliana’s cool teeth when she smiled. Or get to look up at Anders to remind him what a tall asshole he remained. No more painting, sketching, tattooing or watching Nyla’s pleasured expressions and bouncing bosom in the mirror while he fucked her. _Oh, shit, I get to watch myself fuck her again!_

What a perfect partner he had found. She married him while he was at his lowest; in the throes of a recovery that may never have happened. He had been such an asshole at times, between the medications, the headaches, spells of confusion, the looming threat of seizures and bouts of all-consuming depression. She took care of both of them, never allowed him to abuse her, which, to his shame, he had done twice that he knew of. Zevran scrubbed his face with his palm, having a strong urge to cry; he would make it up to her. Never again would he be a grumpy dick when all she wanted was a tandem bike ride.

“You alright, pumpkin?” Nyla sat close beside him, settling a book on her knees and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Not exactly. I feel… raw.”

“If I were you,” she began after several moments of silence. “I might feel a twinge of grief.”

“Yeah?”

“You spent so long seeking the silver lining, trying to reinvent yourself. You were so brave. It was hard.” She rested her chin on his shoulder. “The worst is over now, but you suffered so much, and relief from it aches just as much.”

“You suffered with me,” Zevran spoke softly, his eyes growing moist.

“You’re going to make me ugly cry again,” she squeaked out, right before she hid behind her hands and ugly cried.

“Amor,” Zevran crooned with a giggle, pulling her head against his chest and petting her hair. “You’re so fucking cute right now and this hanging secret is murdering me.”

She sniffled and slid a book onto his lap.

“You didn’t tell me,” he whispered, his chest feeling warm and full as he ran gentle fingers along the gold, embossed letters. _‘Our Wedding Day’._

“It didn’t feel right to say I made us a special book when you couldn’t see it.”

Zevran’s eyebrows scrunched and he tilted his head at her. “What other things did you protect me from?”

“Three weeks ago I was dancing in your studio so you could sleep on the couch and gave myself a black eye on your easel. I also broke the easel. And bought you one just like it. That’s everything. I promise.”

“Ohh shit. Poor amor.” He laughed and leaned over to affectionately brush his nose against hers. “Can’t believe you bought a new easel for a blind guy, Nyla, you are too fucking pure.”

Opening the book, he giggled at a picture of them together in a car; her big brown eyes smiling, his eyes closed behind sunglasses. “You took a picture of us on the way there?”

“Yeah... also, there are roughly a thousand selfies of us you don’t know about.”

 _“Nice!”_ Zevran smiled. “Look at how you did my hair so perfectly, though!”

“I got really good at it.” She flipped the page. “Us waiting in line.”

“Look how I hid behind you.” He _tsked_ and shook his head. “I felt like if I let you go we’d both fucking vanish forever.”

“Oh, hell. That’s sad, pumpkin.”

“I know people live without eyes all the time. People are born without sight, but… I did not handle it well at all.”

“You handled it just right,” Nyla whispered, and could still see him bristling. “Look at me. Everything made sense.”

“Except for the times I yelled at you.” He cringed in memory of his raised voice. “I don’t know what was wrong with me.”

_“Just fucking stop! Go away!”_

_“Okay, honey. I’m going. Call for me if-”_

_“Fucking shut up!”_

  
“We’ve already talked about this. You weren’t just blind, you had a head injury. You were _off._ Way off. Sometimes not you at all.” She bit her lip. _Why is this all coming up again right now?_ “Look at the goddamn book I made!”

Marveling again at how he was able to simply see her face, Zevran whispered, “I’m feeling too much stuff right now.”

“That’s okay.” She gave him a big smile and rested her palm on his cheek. “Feel the stuff, honey pumpkin. Today is a big fucking deal.”

He relaxed with a sigh, pulling her to lay back on their hammock. Nestled between his legs with her back against his belly, she settled the book on her knees.

They sat in silence, Nyla flipping pages, and Zevran’s heart pounding as he tried not to cry; it felt like getting married all over again. Such a beautiful place, no wonder it had been so expensive - not that the word carried any weight. Withholding a tear or two became impossible when he saw her fingers beneath his chin, the moment he had a glimpse of her. Her cheeks were so red, a sheen of sweat on her temples, tears down her cheeks, wisps of hair out of place… so precious and human. Such an intimate moment.

“I had the witness take these pictures,” Nyla spoke softly, grinning up at him as she heard a sniffle. “You like it?”

He nodded, cleared his throat and turned the page. “That was the best kiss.”

“It really was!” Nyla smiled, crying a little. “Our best work.”

Kissing her forehead and chuckling, he whispered, “Our best work.”

 

*******

 

“Okay so, listen.” Nyla paused to take another drink. “Okay I _will_ sing this time. I’m not good at it, so I _have_ to go first. Now, as we all know, Leliana can’t dance worth a shit-”

“Hey!”

“It’s not like, a huge secret.” Nyla lifted her hand to take another drink, Anders’ hand gently brushed her arm as a signal to slow down. “Look at this tall asshole babysitting me after a history of dancing shirtless on tables.”

Anders snorted and rolled his eyes. “I grew up a little, and you’re inclined to strip completely.”

“And I need to be extra drunk to pull off karaoke. Anyway. I have to go first because Leli is an amazing singer, and I don’t want to follow her.”

“Competitive, much?” Leliana giggled.

“Yes,” Nyla replied with a firm nod. “And in exchange, I won’t dance next to you and make it stand out how inept you are.”

Leliana furrowed her brow with a strong desire to take some high road, tell Nyla she didn’t care if she looked foolish. _I dance for fun! For myself!_ “Sounds good.”

“What song are you going to sing?” Anders asked, leaning heavy on Leliana.

“It’s a surprise.” Waggling her eyebrows, Nyla hopped up and bounded away as they called her name.

“Ah, shit.” Zevran chuckled and called out, _“Nyla, keep your clothes on!”_

_“I will, honey!”_

Other patrons laughed, and a couple approached, asking if they could sit at their table with them.

“This is going to be amazing.” Anders jumped up and took the seat between Zevran and Leliana. “Next round says she tries to take her clothes off and Zevran has to chase her down.”

“I don’t know.” Leliana sighed, watching Nyla speak with the one managing the music. “Betting loses its zeal when you combine funds, you know?”

“I’ll take that bet,” the newcomer added with a smirk. “Hale. This is my... Nate.”

“Your Nate.” Anders rubbed his hands together. “Nyla would have a field day with you.”

Hale quirked an eyebrow and tucked her red hair behind her ear. “Sounds fun.”

“I like your piercings,” Leliana spoke to the other ginger sitting across the table, and Hale replied with a friendly nod and smile. “I’m Leliana, this is Anders, Zevran there, Nyla on stage. What song will it be, Anders?”

“Round of drinks says it’s a tropey love song.” He glanced at Hale. “Big risk. I know her better.”

“I’m in.” Hale, nodded. “Not a tropey love song. Looks too sloshed to do some sappy shit.”

“Oh, it’ll be a tropey love song,” Leliana chuckled, tossing back the last of her beer.

Nyla stepped onto the stage and waved at the crowd and spoke into the microphone, “Hi! So… we’re celebrating a big fucking deal tonight. The return of my husband’s eyesight.” A few cheered, a few said _awwww,_ and Nyla palmed her face. “Oh my god. I just told our friends we eloped. I wasn’t ready.”

More cheers and _awwws_ erupted, and Zevran grinned at Lelianders; this was not what they had planned, but Zevran knew better than to plan anything with her.

Leliana’s head whipped around to Zevran. _“How dare you!”_

Shrugging with a smirk, he held up his left hand. “Surprise.”

“How did we miss that?” Anders furrowed his brow and looked closer. “Oh my god that’s shiny. I cannot fucking believe you.”

“I saw it, I thought it was just jewelry because, obviously, if they got fucking _married,_ they would tell us. Look at her dancing!” Leliana cackled. “There’s no _way_ her clothes are staying on.”

Hale stuck two fingers in her mouth for a loud whistle and shouted, _“Take it off!”_

“Please,” Zevran laughed, rolling his eyes. “She really might.”

“This is buggin’ the shit outta you, innit?” Hale held her hands up to her mouth and yelled again, _“Take it off!”_

Nate smirked, leaning back more comfortably in his seat. “Watch out, she does have a way of getting women out of their clothes.”

“I will buy everyone drinks for the rest of the night if they stop encouraging her.”

“What, and miss a chance to see some bloke chase his half naked wife across the club?” Hale let out another loud whistle, and it riled up the crowd.

Zevran’s wife, the woman he married, ceased her dancing and pointed a finger in his direction. _“Who's that sexy thang I see over there? That's me, standin' in the mirror.”_

Anders and Leliana laughed, cheered, clapped their hands, and Zevran pulled out his phone to record her; sober Nyla’s reaction to drunken, rockstar Nyla singing Meghan Trainor’s _Me Too_ would be priceless.

“Not a tropey love song!” Leliana called out. “Next round is on us!”

“This is totally their song, though,” Anders asserted, leaning on Leliana. “It counts as a tropey love song.”

_“If I was you, I'd wanna be me too, I'd wanna be me too-”_

“It ain’t tropey though,” Hale spoke up with her eyes still on Nyla. “Damn she can dance though.”

“I am… dying.” Anders lost himself in another fit of giggles. “Who wants to bet I can get her to do the robot?”

“I’ll take that bet,” Hale chimed in.

“Dammit, Hale,” Nate grumbled with a smirk, and Hale elbowed him with a giggle. “Looks like the next round might be on me.”

_“I walk in like a dime piece, I go straight to VIP, I never pay for my drinks, my entourage behind me-”_

Their voices barely registered for Zevran, his eyes on the woman who married _him._ “I am going to fuck her to absolute death later.”

“R.I.P. Nyla.” Leliana raised a glass, and their glasses clinked in front of his camera.

Zevran, surprised anyone had been listening to him despite chattering among themselves, furrowed his brow and mumbled, “That was really weird, you guys.”

_“I thank God every day. That I woke up feelin' this way, and I can't help lovin' myself-”_

Anders stood up and cheered, whistled and called out, _“Do the robot, Sketchbook Girl!_ ”

She immediately put the mic back on its stand, continued her singing, and did the robot. _“If I was you, I'd wanna be me too. I'd wanna be me too. I'd wanna be me too.”_

The crowd cheered and whistled, happy laughter, applause, and when her song ended she went rigid and limp as a robot shut down, and laughed hard at her own hijinks. She waved as she bounded off the stage and back to their table.

“You’re a fucking _dork,_ Sketch.” Anders grunted as she plopped onto his lap. “What the fuck is this?”

“You’re in my seat.”

“So why didn’t you sit on your _husband_ or ask me to move? You can’t just sit on people, Tiny.”

 _“Husband!_ Since fucking when? _”_ Leliana folded her arms across her chest and pursed her lips. “I wanted to _be there!_ It’s such a big deal! Why would you hide it from us?”

“It’s personal.” Nyla pouted and sat on Zevran, her heart crumbling under Leliana’s disapproval. “Where’s my drink?”

“You drank it, amor.” Zevran felt her energy plummet and rested his hands on her slumped shoulders. “Leliana, you bully,” he spoke playfully. “You have made her sad.”

“Made _her_ sad?” Leliana huffed and stood up. “When you have people in your life who _thought_ they were important and you exclude them from your biggest moments, there are ramifications.”

 _“Ow!”_ Nyla looked at her with wide eyes and a furrowed brow, her heart sinking hard as Leliana turned away from them. “Wait, Leli, don’t leave!”

“It’s her turn to sing,” Anders spoke up, gently patting her back. “It’ll be okay, let’s just enjoy this. She’ll cool off. I’ll get us another drink.”

“Well,” Nyla sighed, pausing as Anders waved at the cocktail waitress. “She’s not wrong. I didn’t think she’d care that much. Oh, _hellooo...”_ Nyla purred to the redhead watching them with vague interest.

“This is Hale, and... _”_ Anders continued with an elegant gesture, “Her Nate.”

“Oh, _her Nate.”_ Nyla grinned and leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” Hale returned her smile and leaned on the table. “None of your business.”

“I like your accent.” Nyla reached out and shook the hands of Hale and her Nate. “No really, though. Beginning of a relationship? Or, you don’t like labels, maybe? It seems to be a really sensitive topic, given that you avoid it.”

Hale rolled her eyes and pointed them at the stage.

“Yeah, I’d ignore me too.” Nyla slid off of Zevran and sat in the seat Anders vacated. “You’re really pretty.”

“Yeah?” Hale flashed her a flirty smile. “Nice outfit. Would look better on the floor.”

Zevran side-eyed her, furrowed his brow, blinked rapidly, unsure if Hale had flirted with his wife, or if she was still trying to win a bet. Glancing at Nate, his entertained stare was on Zevran for a few moments before drifting away.

“Was that you yelling earlier?” Nyla cackled, bouncing in her seat. “That was really rude but I can’t blame you. I look amazing naked. Oh shit, Leli is doing _Halo?_ She isn’t serious right now.”

“Yep.” Anders spoke with a nod. “And it’s going to kill me.”

_“Remember those walls I built, well, baby, they're tumbling down.”_

“Ohhh…” Nyla’s palm landed on her heart, her shoulders slumped. “My god. I’m going to fucking cry.”

The room grew still, the bustle of conversation ceased, all eyes on Leliana.

One of Zevran’s most precious memories; painting in his room, opening his bedroom door to listen to Leli sing to her acoustic guitar playing, enamored with each new song she learned. Listening to her fuck it up until she had it mastered and he could hum along with a paintbrush in his teeth. Zevran missed his roommates, remembered how much he loved them, and the guilt of excluding them from their marriage plans hit him; he would find a way to make it up to them.

_“You're everything I need and more, it's written all over your face. Baby, I can feel your halo, pray it won't fade away.”_

Zevran’s gaze landed on Nyla, her big eyes on Leliana, swiping beneath them with her fingertips. Drinks arrived; Sex on the Beach for Nyla, and three beers, one for Leliana and one for each of their new friends, some orange thing for Anders. Zevran sipped on his tonic water; his medications didn’t mix with alcohol. His vision may have returned, but it didn’t mean the risk of seizures had passed. If anything, scar tissue in his brain guaranteed at least one more. At least he could see everything as he lived with the anxiety of waking on the floor, feeling as if someone had tried to beat him to death. It didn’t concern him too much, after all, his wife would always have his back.

It occurred to him how much he used to drink. Every day straight liquor on ice, unless he was at work. His days off spent subtly intoxicated the moment the sun hit the sky line; perhaps it was a time to develop a different habit.

_“Feels like I've been awakened. Every rule I had you break it. The risk that I'm taking. I ain’t never gonna shut you out.”_

Nyla had changed his life so much. Clubs had been a home away from home, and as he was no longer in search of superficial connections for fear of anything real, they had become much less appealing. The emptiness he hadn’t noticed went away the moment he pinned Nyla down and forced her to be his girlfriend. Zevran smiled when she finally looked at him, and her eyebrows scrunched, her tears intensified, and her forehead hit the table; third ugly cry of the day.

“Okay, amor?” He giggled, sitting close to her and resting his chin on her back. She responded with a nod - or perhaps just knocked her forehead off the table three times - upon examination, he was unsure. Anders remained enchanted, oblivious to the world around him, their new friends doing the same.

_“I can feel your halo... halo…”_

Stuck between wanting to be enraptured by Leliana’s performance and figuring out what was going on with his wife, he sighed, wrapping an arm around Nyla and squeezing her close to watch Leliana finish her song, which followed by the crowd going wild, including Nyla who had ceased her crying to howl and bang the table with her fists.

 _“God damn that was so good!”_ She reached for a napkin and blew her nose. “Oh my god, I’m the crying drunk girl. I’m not drinking anymore.”

Zevran rolled his eyes with a giggle, of course he had more concern over her emotional outburst than she did, and of course she immediately reached for her drink. Being the sober one was not at all dull, as he had expected. Anders lifted his drink of orange whatever to his mouth with a trembling hand, Leliana tripped over a chair during her glamorous walk back from her moment in the spotlight, and Hale bounded away muttering something about _‘Dramatic shite.’_

Nate, as always, looked cool and vaguely amused, leaning back in his chair and taking in the scene in quiet contemplation. Zevran knew that move. Sitting around being good-looking and mysterious always lead to curiosity, and often times, sexy invitations; Zevran didn’t miss it. He’d rather go home to his wife who loved him and have well-practiced sex which guaranteed satisfaction all around. They were so good at sex, and still had several avenues to explore. Nyla’s fist hit the table again, catching Zevran’s attention.

“It totally _doesn’t mean that!”_ Nyla insisted, narrowing her eyes at Leliana. “This is not the time or place to get into it, it’s so _personal._ Stop being mad at me!”

“I’m mad at both of you!”

“We were going to tell you,” Zevran spoke up, and both women looked at him with steely glares. “Woah.”

“Go on,” Leliana demanded, sipping her beer.

“We are having a wedding party. Because I have my eyes back, and I want to see my wife in a white dress. Invitations will be going out after they are printed. We were going to announce our marriage on them.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit impersonal?” Leliana asserted, folding her arms across her chest. “I should find out before whoever- hi Dorian - before that jack-off hears about it.”

“Before this jack-off hears about what?” Dorian sat at the table, his large boyfriend they affectionately called Bull sitting by his side, Emily on his other.

 _“Zevla eloped!”_ Leliana spoke firmly with a glare, and Nyla slid down in her chair and under the table while Emily and Dorian squealed.

“Emily knows, now everyone knows,” Nyla spoke from her dark place, reaching up to grab her drink. “I have to tell my brother before he finds out on god damn _Instagram._ Why does everyone still use Instagram?”

Anders leaned down. “Sketch, honey, get off the floor-”

“Give me a goddamn minute. Jesus christ.” After taking a long drink she muttered, “Go... bellydance on a table or something. You’re not my mom. Stupid Instagram.”

Zevran smiled and held up his left hand, flashing a band of gold and diamonds which inspired a chorus of _‘ooohs’_ from the new arrivals. “Amor, your Ginger Crush is about to sing.”

Nyla popped back into her chair and placed her empty glass on the table, her wide eyes on the stage. “I love this song!”

“Who doesn’t?” Leliana responded, bobbing her head to the beat of Blondie’s _Call Me._

_“Color me your color, baby. Color me your car. Color me your color, darling, I know who you are.”_

“Still mad?” Nyla asked with a pout.

 _“Forever!”_ Leliana snapped at her with a pointed finger, and went back to her casual head bobbing.

“At least it’s explicit,” Nyla grumbled and tried to drink from her empty glass, setting it back down as if its emptiness were a shocking mystery. “The fuck?”

_“Call me, my love. You can call me any day or night. Call me.”_

“Where did her accent go?” Nyla stared at the stage with starry eyes. “She’s like… a rockstar…”

“Little gay there, Sketch,” Anders teased, sliding his drink across the table and away from her grasp.

“What? She’s really pretty and I love her moves. Look at the shoulder shimmy. She’s not shy to let her boobies move when she’s dancing. Do you know how shy large-busted women get when they dance? I used to squash mine for classes.”

“So…” Leliana leaned on the table, “She’s pretty. You like her moves. Especially the way she moves her boobies.”

“Yes,” Nyla responded with an enthusiastic nod. “Wait-”

A chorus of the word _‘gay’_ sounded around the table.

“Zev?” Nyla looked at him with the question in her eyes.

“What? It’s okay to hop borders,” he responded with a shrug, and she rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, I’m just going to watch-”

“Her boobies,” Anders cut in, withholding a giggle.

“If I want to watch Ginger Crush’s boobies, that’s my prerogative,” Nyla mumbled, suddenly wondering if there wasn’t a little truth to her gayness. “Shutup. I don’t have time for an identity crisis right now.”

_“Cover me with kisses, baby. Cover me with love. Roll me in designer sheets, I'll never get enough.”_

“Oh my god,” Nyla gasped.

“You don’t have to face it all at once, Zevran’s wife,” Dorian spoke seriously, as if delivering sage advice. “But if you discover that you are a little gay, find yourself a woman who looks at you the way Emily looks at Leliana.”

 _“You little shit.”_ Emily let out a nervous and awkward chuckle, her cheeks turning a bright pink as Leliana winked at her. Leaning closer to Dorian to speak in hushed tones, they could hear a distinct, _“Call me out like this!”_

“Like it’s a secret.” Dorian smirked, raising an elegant hand to examine his fingernails.

_“Call me, oh love. When you're ready we can share the wine. Call me.”_

Hale beckoned the audience with her hands and a smile, encouraging them to stand up and dance with her. Nyla hopped up, as well as several others. One thing Zevran loved about Nyla; her penchant for dancing on a whim, and also mimicking other dancers when she really appreciated their movements.

_“Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, he speaks the languages of love…”_

Nyla danced with Hale, singing along and shaking her shoulders. When she reached down to grab the hem of her shirt, Zevran was too slow and it landed in his arms. With a deep sigh, he shook his head and watched Nyla dance in her tank top.

“Nyla, please, for the love of god, keep the rest of it on.” Zevran draped her sweater over the back of her chair and grumbled, “The last thing we need right now is to deal with charges of indecent exposure.”

“I’d say it’s pretty decent,” Bull spoke up with a facetious smile.

“Thank you!” Nyla gestured to him with an open palm. “There is literally no reason whatsoever I shouldn’t be able to walk around as topless as men do. Hiding this business is more of a crime than exposing it.”

“Yes, but only when you’re drunk,” Zevran reminded her. “These sentiments never carry over into sobriety.”

“They do so,” Nyla insisted. “The propensity for actually being nude doesn’t. But, it still stands. Women should have the choice to be topless. _Yes,_ all of them. Was that gay?” She asked, but it was more of a question for herself than anyone else.

She sat down, hurling headlong into the crisis she swore she didn’t have time for. _Do other straight girls think boobies should be freely displayed? I don’t necessarily want to touch boobies but the thought doesn’t repulse me. They are pretty. Mine are especially pretty. Is that gay? Is this all just extensions of a desire to have more same sex attachments or do I really feel sexy when I think of boobies?_ Nyla closed her eyes and imagined breasts, to see what she would feel.

“Amor?” Zevran sat closer to her, tuning out the playful chatter of their friends, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple. She had been so quiet for so long; not what one would expect of a drunken Nyla.

“Hold on, I’m… uh.” Opening her eyes, she blinked at him. “Having an identity crisis.”

“Share with me?”

Nyla took a deep breath. “I’m trying to… figure out how gay I am. So far I have, boobies are nice, and I want more women in my life, but not necessarily to be sexy with them.”

“Not _necessarily?”_ Zevran smiled, his face mere inches from hers.

“No I mean not _at all!”_ She laughed and buried her face in his neck. _“I’m having a near gay experience!”_

Something about it, the innocence in her tone, combined with her frustration and the acknowledged silliness of it all had Zevran laughing with her.

“Okay, hold on,” Nyla interrupted their laughter. “Okay, as I was sitting here imagining boobies at great length-”

Zevran snorted and laughed, her preference to keep using the word _boobies_ striking him as comical; his giggles tapered as he indulged in her big, dark eyes taking in his smile. “I’m listening, darling. Go on.”

“I genuinely _enjoyed_ imagining the boobies. I don’t want to touch the boobies, I want to look at and appreciate them. Bodies are art, to me.”

“Ooh.” Zevran tilted his head. “Get into photography.”

“And…” Nyla side eyed him and furrowed her brow. “Take pictures of-”

“People dancing. Anything. Look at something, love it, take a picture of it.”

“Oh.” Nyla’s eyes widened, and she could see the brilliance in his idea. “I love loving things.”

 _“Yes!_ And you are so good at it! Your picture books are beautiful. Even the sad ones, which, when you examine them, were always expressions of love.”

“Hey!” Leliana leaned on them. “Fucking secret newlyweds, let’s go dancing now. Ginger Crush and her Nate are coming, too.”

“It’s okay, Leliana,” Nyla reassured her. “I’m not gay, I just love stuff.”

“Whatever you say, Tiny Gay,” Anders spoke in a sing-song voice, standing up and gathering purses and sweaters.

_“I’m not-”  
_

 

*******

 

It was the club they met, and although she smelled doom on the horizon, Nyla flung herself into it half-cocked and ready to dance. With an arm around Emily and the other around Hale, her new Ginger Crush, she dragged them to the dance floor. Leliana’s hand held firm by Emily, who dragged her along despite her reluctance. Anders followed them close behind; his shirt would be off within the hour and they would have to pull him off of a table, but at least they knew where he was. Who wouldn’t want to dance with four beautiful women?

Zevran, who would rather watch, stood in his usual spot. The same spot he stood the moment he met her. She looked so happy, dancing with her friends, watching Hale and mimicking her moves, sharing some of her own. Zevran couldn’t recall a time she smiled so big and played so hard.

Leliana, who had enough drinks to make the shitty dancing thing a non-issue, actually danced, and Nyla grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. This made him laugh and quirk an eyebrow at her, until he realized her game. Standing tall, Nyla flopped her arms, shook her own shoulders, grabbed Leliana’s arms, flopped them around, and Nyla’s mouth moved to say the words, _‘Fucking relax!’_ She had a point; Leliana stood stiff as a board, and of course a board couldn’t dance worth a shit.

Zevran fell in love with Nyla all over again. _She would be such a good mom._

“Hello, you!”

“Isabela!” Zevran smiled, happy to see her after so long.

“I haven’t seen you since I got you in trouble,” she spoke with a smile and a kiss on his cheek. “Where have you been?”

“It is wonderful to see you,” he replied with a gentle hand on her arm and a step back. “We have been busy. You will see us around more.”

“We?” Isabela tilted her head at him and asked, “Everything turned out alright, then?”

Zevran replied with his new favorite thing; he lifted his hand to display his gold and diamond ring. “We worked it out fine.”

 _“Well!”_ She laughed, stepping closer to wrap an arm around him, and he politely stepped away. “Ah, I don’t want to get you in trouble with the _wife_ now, do I?”

“Isabela,” he smiled and chuckled with a shake of his head. “While I know it is in your nature to be physically affectionate, I prefer you are not so with me. And yes, it has everything to do with my personal preference to remain respectful to my partner, and our carefully constructed boundaries.”

“Haven’t you grown,” she replied with a playful smirk, reaching out to wrap an arm around his neck and remembering not to.

Nyla ceased her dancing to see Zevran's rapt attention on Isabela. _Again! We have been here for twenty fucking minutes and already- god dammit why is she so pretty?_ Nyla approached them and tried to look casual, his eyes flicked toward her and he smiled. Still, she felt the familiar pang of jealousy and humiliation.

“Perhaps I will introduce you formally now,” he reached out and put an arm over her shoulders. Emily bounded to them, and he tucked her beneath his other arm.

“Zev, I’d like to go talk,” Nyla spoke softly in his ear, and he nodded.

“One moment,” he nodded to Isabela, grabbing Emily by the shoulders and standing the woman inches from each other. “Isabela, this is Reception. She really, _really_ needs to get laid.”

 _“What-”_ Emily blushed furiously, glancing back at the two walking away, and then back to Isabela. “Well, I mean, he’s not wrong.”

“Hello,” Isabela purred with a coquettish smile. “So, your name is… Reception?”

“Emily,” she smiled, blushed, bit her lip. “Emily Hawke.”

Zevran and Nyla stepped outside among the chatty, drunk smokers, and she lead him further away to the side of the building.

“What’s on your mind, amor?” He asked, tilting his head at her with his best smile.

She stared into his soft, golden-brown eyes, feeling twinges of anger, jealousy, humiliation, her self worth plummeting at just the thought of _Isabela_ and the great sex he probably had with her, the very real-feeling threat that he would want to again.

“I don’t want you to hang out with Isabela.”

“Mmm…” he nodded, trying to digest her words, but they made him feel ill. “I can’t agree to that.”

“Because she’s that special to you?” Nyla bit her lip and looked at the ground.

“Yes, though, not for the reasons you imagine, I wager.” He watched her face, the furrowed brow, nibbling her lip, the way she leaned back against the wall and idly tapped it with her fists. “You don’t trust me, Nyla?”

“I don’t trust _her,”_ she grumbled, pushing herself off the wall with her forearms.

“You don’t trust me to set boundaries with her,” he said with a pointed glare. “Do you imagine I married you just to throw it away on some dalliance?”

“Is our marriage the only thing keeping you from a dalliance?” She glared back at him.

“Of _course,”_ he replied. “Without you, I would be all over the place, seeking exactly what I have with you.”

“If you’re so content, why do you feel the need to be around _her?_ Why do you say no to my request?”

“For one, Nyla, that was not a request, it was… I don’t know what it was. A command? And _second-_ ” He lowered his pointing finger, took a deep breath to keep his temper in check. “And second, there is a very good reason I remain friends with her, and I am not inclined to tell her personal business just to garner your trust - which I should already have.”

“Why?” Nyla met his eyes again. “Why should you already have my trust?”  
  
“What?” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Damn, if you don’t trust me already, then why the hell are we married?”

 _“Ouch!_ A marriage doesn’t imply a perfect relationship!” She rested her hands on her hips. “It means commitment to facing obstacles together, and this is one of them.”

“Then what do you expect from me? Do you want me to say _‘Yes dear,_ since I can’t avoid fucking Isabela, I will stay away from her’? When does _that_ end? After all, I am a bisexual man, perhaps I should eliminate all people from my life so I don’t accidentally fuck them.”

“Wait.” She held her hands up. “I don’t mean-”

“If we play by your rules, that is what I am reduced to, right? A man with no agency, to be passed around or kept at the whim of another?”

“No,” Nyla spoke softly, reaching toward him but he waved her away. “Baby, I didn’t mean to open this can of worms. I don’t think of you as a possession. I _know_ you have agency. I just… wanted to feel safe.”

“If offering you all of me doesn’t do that.” he held up his left hand, apparently also a convenient move during fights, “Then it’s not on me to convince you.”

“I didn’t mean to-” She began with gentleness in her tone, her eyebrows knitted together. “I was hurting and I needed help. I immediately went to my best friend.”

“Shit.” Zevran met her eyes again, so full of softness and hurt, and he melted. “That makes sense. I am glad that you did.”

“I did it wrong but… I needed to do _something._ I needed to hear all of that from you.” The ache in her chest dissipated when he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist. “It’s a sticky situation. I get triggered when I’m jealous, you get triggered when I get jealous because it’s as if I don’t trust you. Maybe... marriage counseling?”

“If you believe that is what we need, I will go with you,” he spoke softly. “In the meantime, I will tell you a bit about Isabela. I think… you may feel softer toward her.” After a few moments, she nodded. “Isabela married a very bad man.”

“How bad?”

“Very bad.” Zevran sighed deeply, feeling a flash of anger. “She was my lover, had always been a free spirit, you see. I discovered many bruises on her.”

“Oh, shit.” Nyla took a moment to feel grateful to have never had _that_ in her life. “What did you do?”

“I beat his ass, of course,” Zevran asserted with a firm nod. “I taught her a little about self defense. Went to court with her to support her in getting a restraining order.”

“Woah.” Nyla stared him in awe. “Pumpkin, you’re such a badass.”

“I was just being a good person. I’m not the one who survived _him.”_ Pursing his lips and sighing through another spark of anger he muttered, “The son of a bitch. Anyway. Isabela is someone who I consider a dear friend. We rarely talk, I’m not even sure if we have each other’s phone numbers, but she knows how to find me if she ever needs.”

“That’s amazing.” Nyla smoldered at him with her sly smile and purred, “You should be rewarded.”

He chuckled as she attacked his neck and fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. “Right _here?”_

“I found them! They’re… very busy.”

“Shit-” Nyla pulled her hand out of Zevran’s pants and folded her arms across her chest. “Dammit Anders, where’s your god damn shirt?”

“Leli has it, I hope.” Anders chuckled and rested his hands on his hips. “So… I got kicked out. Party continues at our place. Emily and Isabela are coming. So are Ginger Crush and her Nate.”

“I must warn you,” Zevran spoke with his back toward him, adjusting everything to zip his tight pants back up. “If you take Isabela home, sex will happen.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re monogamous,” Leliana chimed in.

“Pretty sure?” Anders furrowed his brow at her. “What does that mean?”

“What _does_ that mean?” Leliana smirked at him, and they stared at each other for a few moments of silence. “Well, I guess we’ll see what happens.”

 

*

 

Nyla cuddled beneath Zevran’s arm in the cab, watching him watch the world go by. The night’s events replayed in her mind making her feel warm, and she remembered back when she had no one. When she found her Zevran, he opened up a world of good people for her, and always seemed to attract more. She had a _tribe.  
_

 

**~~Bonus~~**

 

“Zev.” Nyla stepped out into the living room in the outfit he chose for her. “So, I couldn’t help noticing… that this isn’t enough clothes for the outside.”

“Damn.” he bit his lip and stared at her with wide eyes. “I love it when you take me seriously when I clearly don’t deserve it.”

“So, do I get something to wear on top of the garter belt?” She giggled, holding the long leather coat aside with a hand on her hip. “The heels were a nice touch, though I usually like to color coordinate my bra and panties.”

“I… like the combination of black and red on you.” Clearing his throat, he jumped up grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the bedroom.

She laughed and kept his pace, her heels clacking on the wood floor as she ran. “Are we doing the thing with the ropes and feathers?”

He let go of her hand at the threshold and went for his sketchbook. Sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard, a pencil between his fingers, a clean page in front of him. “If that is your wish, amor, I will gladly deliver. In a little bit.”

“Let me guess,” Nyla purred, crawling across the bed, and his gaze flicked up to her. The smirk playing on his lips and familiar predatory glare sent shivers along her skin. “You need to draw this.”

* * *

 

Art by @captainmouchi on tumblr.


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